Coming Home
by Lily Zen
Summary: After the events of SDRL, Ghost, on a mission of vengeance, is severely injured. This deals with his recovery. Ghost/Feral.
1. Chapter 1

Coming Home

Chapter One

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: cussing, sex, schmoop, angst

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Notes: I finally got around to piecing this story together. It's quite a process. Alex and I write on a forum, so we can access it anywhere. The downside to that is we have to copy and paste each individual post into Word, edit, and format it. It's quite tedious, so I hope you appreciate it.

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun people. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Teva's first reaction to Mrs. Reyes' letter was a quick flash of disbelief followed by an overwhelming joy. Brandon wasn't dead, they'd just been mistaken, misinformed. Her next feeling was worry. He'd been missing for quite some time. Why? What possible condition was she going to find him in? Why hadn't he contacted her himself? Where was he?

The clinic. She thought, then could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner, when Bran had first dropped off the radar. Stupid. Her emotions must have blinded her to all the possibilities, all the rational steps she would have taken under any other circumstances.

It was as she was looking up the number to the specific Doc Wagon clinic Brandon had received his care at that it hit her...if Brandon was still alive, it meant that she'd just cheated on him. With Red. Oh, fucksticks. Her lips parted on a soundless gasp of shock as she finally registered this fact. Her head thumped onto the counter top as she groaned. Teva's eyes began to burn with tears once more, but these were for a completely different reason. The sudden guilt threatened to choke her.

If only that stupid letter had shown up yesterday. "Oh god," she whimpered, "What am I gonna do?" Did she tell him? What would happen if she told him? Nothing good, that was for certain. And if she kept it a secret? The guilt would always be there, but it would be hers to bear. As long as she didn't let it creep over into their interactions, everything would be alright.

"Red!" she gasped, sitting back up and dialing his comm.

"Yes?" he answered, politely interested as always.

"Hi, I, um, need a favor," Teva stuttered, wincing at the hesitance in her voice.

"Another one?" Red chuckled.

"Ha, ha," she snarked. "Not that kind of favor. I just found out Ghost's still alive-"

"_Oh_," Red stated, and that single syllable seemed to hold a wealth of understanding.

"Yeah," Feral agreed, "Pretty much."

"What do you need?"

"Healing and your guarantee of silence," Teva answered automatically.

"Sure," he agreed. "Stop over. I'll do you now."

Teva winced at the same moment that Red hissed.

"Sorry," he told her, "Didn't mean it like that."

"I know," she replied quietly, but feeling even more horrible than before. "Just...just promise me you won't do something like that in front of somebody else. I can't... Red, I can't lose him a-" Her voice cracked, but she continued speaking, squeezing out the final syllable, hoping it wasn't too audible, "-gain."

For a second there was silence on the line, and she waited, her body tense with anxiety. When Red finally replied, tone laden with sympathy, her breath came out in a relieved whoosh of carbon dioxide. "Teva, of course. I'm not some schoolboy in the locker room. Nobody will ever know what happened last night except you and I."

"Thank you," she choked out.

"No thanks necessary," the other 'runner responded. "I don't have any plans today, so just call when you're on your way."

"Okay," Teva nodded though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Get Madden to come water your plants," he gently suggested.

"Yes," she agreed. Yes, that was completely logical, and no doubt something she'd have overlooked. Her brain seemed to be slowing down with the shock, with the suddenness of it all.

"And Teva?"

"Hm?"

"For what it's worth, I'm glad he's alive," Red told her, and disconnected the call.

To the empty air, she whispered, "Me too."

It took time to get everything in order. She had to find a flight. The mid-day flight was due to take off in twenty minutes, and the next one wasn't until four o' clock but was down to standby only. She'd get a better deal if she took the six o' clock flight, but that meant catching a connection in Houston. She wouldn't arrive until after ten, and that was with crossing time zones.

As she packed, Teva finally put out that call to Madden, asking him to come and make sure her plants were taken care of until further notice. "Yeah," she said, "Feel free to eat whatever. I don't know how long I'll be gone." She rolled her clothes up into tiny little balls of fabric, stuffing as much as she could in the bag. She didn't think she'd need them, but she packed some weapons anyway in the false bottom.

After creating a list of instructions which Teva sent to Madden's comm, she locked up, and took the bus to Red's. He let her up, and offered her coffee, then very professionally rested his hands on her neck and healed up the marks his mouth had made on the slender column and underneath her shirt, and the faint fingerprint bruises on her hips. As always, Red's magic entered her with the intimate feeling of furred animal sides rubbing against each other. It made her smile a little, but she was unable to articulate the exact source of her amusement when Red asked.

Finally, he looked her in the eyes, and told her sincerely, "I really am glad he's alright. Love is the best thing on earth, and the most painful thing to lose. I'd never wish that agony on anyone."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I really hope someday you find somebody, Red, 'cause underneath all the layers of cynicism and derision there's a good guy." Patting his opposite cheek lightly, Teva stepped away and picked up her bag again.

He shot her a wan smile. "Thank you for the warm wishes. Now go fetch your boyfriend."

Sighing, Teva dragged her fingers through her hair. "I have no idea what I'm gonna find when I get there."

"Think of it like a grab bag," Red drawled.

Barking out a laugh, Feral flipped him off and walked out the door, waving casually over her shoulder.

* * *

Brandon's mind was still swimming with confused thoughts as he picked at his soup, not really hungry but not wanting to argue about his lack of appetite either. Dr. Peters had okayed a very small bowl of plain vanilla frozen yogurt in celebration of his first step-and-a-half towards freedom, but even that wasn't enough to entice him. Yes, he had walked, and it was all good news, but then what? Even once he earned his way home he'd still be mostly bound to the wheelchair and a rolling walker for a while, which he still wouldn't be able to cruise around in without direct supervision. Really, as happy as he was at the notion of having his leg function back, he was just trading one sort of prison for another.

But the second one would be in the comfort of...somebody else's home that wasn't even his. His place had been rented out to someone new, someone the Reyeses didn't like nearly as much as they liked Brandon. The safe house was comfortable, but it wasn't his home, wasn't full of memories both good and bad, or singing with his secrets of joy or sorrow. Never one to be overly sentimental about inanimate objects, it wasn't the belongings he'd left behind to be stolen or destroyed that he missed, it was the apartment itself. It was the place where he and Teva had played house for a while, pretending they were a normal couple instead of two messed up 'runners clinging to each other for comfort.

Mrs. Reyes was sure Teva would come today. He wasn't. He didn't think she would, and if she did, she probably would take one look at his barely functional muscles and sightless eyes, and decide he'd be too much work for her to handle.

_...She never said it back._

His throat constricted, and he dropped the spoonful of soup back into its bowl in favor of the yogurt, wanting something cool to help ease the burn that was starting to grow. Nobody scolded him for picking at his dessert before he finished his meal. In fact...

"Hello?" he called out tentatively when he could talk past the lump that threatened to cut off his voice.

"Still here, mijo," Mrs. Reyes said softly from somewhere off to his left. "Do you need something?"

He shook his head. "No, just checking."

There was a pause before Mr. Reyes spoke up as well. "Would you like me to tell you more stories? To fill the silence?"

Brandon's face flushed a little at that, but he nodded. Having something else to focus on right then would be good, something to keep away his growing apprehension over whether Teva would come or not, and what her reaction would be when she got there.

He managed to finish his yogurt and fell asleep listening to the smooth, lulling cadence of voice that only Amerindians seemed to possess, filling his head with tales of brave warriors and days when grassy plains covered most of the country. The tales wove into his dreams, and even in his sleep he found himself wishing he could stay there again, trapped in slumber, his little retreat to a pretend world where he could still see.

When they woke Brandon up for dinner (which was something he was still trying to get used to - lunch, then sleep, then being made to eat again when he felt like he just had only moments before), he found the first question shooting out of his mouth had been to ask if Teva was there. When the answer was a no followed with yet another assurance that she'd be coming, he found himself to be more depressed than he felt he should've been. He _told_ himself that she wasn't coming, wasn't supposed to even let himself _hope_ that she'd be there, but Mrs. Reyes had just been so damn positive about it.

Two days though; two days had passed when she should've shown up, but she hadn't. He tried to pretend like it didn't bother him because he knew that this was how it was going to be, but in truth it was carving into his chest with the intensity of a dull blade sawing into his heart. This was supposed to be better, easier than her showing up just to tell him it was over, judging him and despising him for his helplessness; but it wasn't. It wasn't at all easy, and he found himself wishing he _could _hear her voice, even if it was harsh or angry or even pitying.

When visiting hours came to an end he tried to pretend that he wasn't even thinking about it, but of course the Reyeses knew he was; _everyone_ knew he was. Nana gave him a kiss on the cheek while he fumbled around with his tablet in an attempt to look nonplussed by the whole ordeal, and told him again that the mail was probably just slow, or that maybe Teva just wasn't home to get it at a reasonable time to come.

He nodded, and with a little shrug of his shoulder promptly answered with, "Whatever," like he didn't care, and appeared to concentrate on his writing practice. After they'd left, though, he shoved the little journal aside and hugged his arms around his middle, wishing away the growing emptiness that was growing there. He had fallen back to sleep having lost the little bit of joy he'd gained earlier that day from his triumphant walk and gaining back his ability to write.

* * *

The bus to the airport took a long time, and the flight even longer. She'd smoothed on an anti-anxiety patch before even getting on the plane, knowing that she was already jazzed up, and not needing to make it any worse. She didn't sleep though. She never slept on the planes. The patches managed her anxiety, but didn't obliterate it. By the time Teva landed in L.A., she was tired, but called up the clinic to verify that Brandon was there.

"He's sleeping though," the nurse said kindly.

"That's okay. Don't wake him. I'll do it myself," she replied.

"Alright, Sarah, I'll let you, but just this once," the woman laughed. "He's been waiting for you for days."

It was then that it occurred to Teva that she knew this woman. "Darlene?" She slipped into the back of a cab and gave the driver the clinic's address.

"Yeah, sweetie. It's a long shift for me today," Darlene chuckled.

"I'll see you in a bit then." As she spoke, Teva realized she hadn't eaten anything since that morning, and she was fucking starving. "You want something to eat?" she offered.

"Swinging through a drive thru?"

"Yeah."

"A burger and fries would be nice. I'll cred you back when you get here," the woman answered.

A quick pit stop at a Jack in the Box later, she'd walked into the clinic, given Darlene her food and offered her a vanilla shake. The nurse smiled, shook her head, and said, "Give it to your boyfriend. They've got him on a liquid diet. Just...don't tell the doc I let you give it to him. And um...what do you know about his status?"

"Nothing," Teva replied, fishing french fries out of her little paper bag.

What Darlene told her shocked and saddened her, but at least it prepared her...-ish. Standing in the doorway of his room, a heavy bag in one hand, and a greasy paper sack in the other, she was suddenly struck with how different he looked. It wasn't just the weight loss either or the fact that he was so pale, paler than usual. There was a pall of sadness in the air, and even in his sleep he looked troubled. She didn't want to wake him, but she wasn't sure if it was within her rights to stay with him. There was a lot there between them that hadn't been said or dealt with.

Then he began to stir, and she knew she wasn't leaving as long as he wanted her there.

The smell roused him out of his slumber. It smelled like greasy food, and even with his seeming loss of appetite his stomach still twinged at the thought of eating something grotesquely unhealthy for him. What asshole would bring something like that within his reach when they knew he couldn't have it?

Opening his eyes, he turned his head in the direction where he knew the door to be and scowled. "What?" he snapped, wondering why the hell whoever was standing in his doorway wafting food smells into his room hadn't moved or spoken, and getting a little concerned that maybe none of it was real and his fucked up brain was causing him to hallucinate. Blind, mostly immobile, _and_ crazy. That would just top things off pretty fucking perfectly.

Inwardly he screamed at the person to make a noise, any noise, to confirm he wasn't losing it.

_Please don't let me be crazy._

Teva jumped at the suddenness of Bran's voice, snapping like a whip through the room. She took a few silent steps in, though her bag rolling across the floor behind her gave her position away. Clearing her throat, she said simply, "Hey."

She put the paper food bag on the little table in the room, and dug the shake out of the bag. The straw popped in the top with one of those squeaky, screech sounds. "Sorry it took me so long to get here. You want a shake?"

Normalcy, casualness; these seemed like the better options for an opening gambit. He was cranky, and probably wouldn't know what to do with her if she just flung herself on him and started crying. Plus, she was kind of sick of crying. Eating was the better option, and more practical, all things considered.

The sound of Teva's voice was like a shock to his emotional system, and at first he didn't know what to do with it. His chest heaved up and down a few times as he tried to keep himself under control, wanting nothing more than to jump out of bed and crumble into her arms.

But he wouldn't get to her arms before he crumbled. If he even tried he'd wind up in a little blind heap on the floor next to the bed, showing her exactly how pathetic he'd become. That thought made him pull into himself a little, and as overwhelmingly happy as he was that she'd actually come for him, he was now also startlingly terrified. He didn't want her to see him like this, didn't want to hear the coming rejection in her voice, wanted to tell her to stay away, but knew those words would never come out of his mouth. Now that she was back he would never tell her leave again, not ever.

Instead he unconsciously hugged his arms over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling incredibly insecure as he wondered what to do with himself for a second, and came to the conclusion that his best course of action would probably be to just answer her simple question. Making a bold move and hoping he wouldn't screw it up, he reached out with one hand to feel for the little rolling table beside the bed where his tablet was resting. The thing had a fold-up leaf that doubled it as his food tray, but he'd never worked it by himself before and wasn't quite sure how to.

Settling for just wheeling the thing from back at his shoulder level down to being in line with his waist, he kept his face turned away from her as he both subtly answered her question and asked for help at the same time. "There's a...um...a tray on this thing...somewhere."

What do you do with a suddenly blind boyfriend? That was Teva's dilemma. She'd never seen him so helpless before, even when they had first met up again, and she'd helped him through detox. _Help him, you idiot,_ her brain prodded her when his hands fumbled for the tray. So she did what she would have done with anybody who didn't know how to operate the tray-she told them.

"There's a trick to it," she admitted, stepping forward and placing her hand over his where it was feeling a little uncertainly for the food tray. "The tray is underneath the top part with a little button next to it." Lacing her fingers with his, Teva directed their hands downward to the second level of the table, the small space in between the two long, flat surfaces passing between their fingers before they found the next laminated top. Quickly, she slid their hands along it to the right until they ran right into the rectangular button. "Push the button in," she directed while her hand, still tangled with his, did so, "And while you hold it down start pushing the top table away from you. The food tray will slide out toward you at the same time. Be careful not to hit yourself with it."

Waiting, she watched as Brandon used his other hand to find the upper table again, and pushed out gently. The table reacted just as she'd said it would, the food tray sliding out. "That's good," Teva murmured, disentangling their fingers though she felt a sense of loss at the contact. "Then just let go of the button, and keep sliding the two pieces out until you hear a click." He was going to hit himself with the tray. "Just a sec, let me adjust the wheels." Teva pulled it back a couple inches, then let Bran do the rest, hooking the fingers of one hand underneath the piece with the food tray, and pushing out on the top piece with the other. "It's not so bad once you get the hang of it," she stated quietly.

"Sorry for bringing food in," she told him as she went to grab the vanilla shake off of the table. "I haven't eaten much today, so I'm starving." With what she hoped was casualness, Teva put the paper cup down on the tray in front of him, and informed Bran, "Your shake's at twelve o' clock." She started digging in her own bag for the monster soyburger in the bottom of the sack.

A tiny little smile quirked Brandon's lips once he got the tray all the way out, appreciative of the fact that Teva had spent the time to direct him through it instead of just treating him like he was too inept to handle the task himself, and then following that with just telling him where the shake was instead of holding it for him. He should've known better. She just wasn't the type to cater to a weakness unless it was clear that a person was literally physically incapable of handling something on their own.

"Thank you," he said as he carefully reached out for the cup, not wanting to tip it over in his attempts. His fingers brushed against the paper lightly, and he adjusted his aim to actually get his hand wrapped around the cup properly. Not wanting to look like an idiot and stab himself in the face with the straw, he used his other hand to guide that into his mouth, and smiled again at the sweet taste.

"They let me have frozen yogurt today," he quietly blurted out, not caring so much right then that his brain-to-mouth filter was still on the fritz. Teva hadn't shied away from him. She'd grabbed his hand and helped him, instead. _And_ she didn't sound mad about the whole suicide, just kidding thing...at least not yet, anyway.

He let his eyes crack open again, just a little bit, as he continued to let himself ramble on a little self-consciously. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed having simple, retarded conversation with her, and decided staying clear of the heavier topics would be good for now. Of course, that meant he didn't really have much else to talk about. The clinic had been his whole world for the last almost month and a half.

"This is better than yogurt…and Peters said I could probably have mashed potatoes tomorrow instead of just the soup. Nana puts corn tortilla in it for me, but I'm kind of tired of it - the soup, in general, not the tortillas. I like that part. They gave me a writing tablet today too. It's pretty...cool...I guess." He dropped his head. "I'm sorry, I don't...don't do a whole lot. I walked almost two steps today...that's been about the most exciting thing that's happened since I woke up." That was followed by a sad little laugh. It _had_ been exciting until saying it out loud like that made him realize how pathetic that sounded. He clamped up again and just focused on his drink.

Teva had sat back down at the little side table, and was chewing thoughtfully as she listened to Bran's recounting of his day. Swallowing her food, she told him honestly, "Two steps is a big deal, B. From what I understand, you were comatose for almost a month. That's a long time for the body to remain inactive, and muscle atrophies fast. The staff, well, they can do some exercises in the bed, but it doesn't use the same muscles as you being upright and doing it yourself."

She shoved a few french fries into her mouth, and spoke as she chewed, which wasn't exactly proper but oh well. "Don't sell yourself short."

"By the way," Teva drawled, eyeing Brandon as he sipped the shake up through the straw, "Don't tell Peters I gave you that. Darlene said it would probably be fine, but they've been trying to go easy on your stomach since you woke up. I guess she feels the frozen yogurt was a good step." She smiled even though she knew Brandon couldn't see it, but maybe he could hear it in her voice that she was in a good mood. "She thinks you're ready for real ice cream. Maybe next we'll even get you a flavor other than vanilla."

Reaching back into the bag, Teva dug out the other small shake and straw, and took a long sip. "Okay, that is pretty good, you're right." She took the top off and started dipping her fries in the ice cream.

"Who's nana?" The question was abrupt as the word finally registered in her tired mind.

Brandon choked on his shake, and nearly missed the tray when he set the cup down so he wouldn't drop it while his airway cleared itself. The coughing gave way to a light chuckle as he felt a trace amount of heat rise in his cheeks. Despite that, he turned a little in her direction and flashed her a humored smile.

"Nana and tata. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes sort of unofficially adopted me. They come every day, morning to night. They've been..." He shook his head with a thankful grin. "I don't know what I would've done if they hadn't been here. I couldn't...couldn't remember your number, and if nana hadn't..."

That stupidly familiar lump lodged in his throat again and he had to fight back tears. "She kept telling me you'd come, but I didn't...I thought you'd be mad. My last letter was...and then I was just gone. I was being careful, though, I swear. I didn't know they'd be there. It was just...Lonnie, and the park, and stupid coincidence, and I tried, I really tried, Teva, but there were too many, and one of them had a bat and I...I couldn't..."

Swallowing hard, he shut his eyes again in an attempt to regain control of his emotions. "I didn't think you'd come. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried."

"I'm sure you did," Teva said soothingly, but there was something deceptive in her tone, something boiling under the surface. "I don't blame you for your accident. That would be stupid. Blaming the victim is always stupid."

Pausing, she took a large bite off of her burger, using it to stopper up her words before they burst out in a hail of yelling and curse words. Holy shit. She hadn't known how angry she was underneath all the panic and worry and joy and sorrow and love, but _fuck_, Teva was so goddamn pissed off she could have chewed through steel, broken all of her teeth, had a mouth full of metal slivers, and it _still_ wouldn't have been enough to keep her silent.

After swallowing, she took another drink from her cup, and began to speak once again in a carefully controlled voice. "Don't think because I'm here that I'm not angry. I am. The last communication I had from you was basically a suicide note talking about how you needed to _save me_ from yourself. I spent the last month thinking you were dead. I _mourned_ you." Drilling her nails on the tabletop, she shifted restlessly, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them, and finally crossing them again the other way. "I'm pissed. Now that the shock's starting to fade, and I can see for myself that you're alive... Jesus fucking Christ, I am so goddamn angry, I could cheerfully put my fist through a wall and I probably wouldn't even feel it."

As her diatribe went on, her words came faster, harder, cutting through the air with the shining urgency and precision of one of her throwing blades. Her fingers cranked into claws against her thighs. There was still some semblance of control in her tone though. Her words may have been spat out with increasing rapidity, but her volume never went up, she never made that final shift from icy, controlled anger to hot, blood-curdling rage. She was very careful not to let herself take that final step.

Teva sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair. "But I don't even know who I'm pissed at. Myself for not checking with the fucking clinic right off the bat? You for being a douchebag and writing me that horrible letter? Gabe? I'm definitely angry at him, no doubt about that; that fucker should be _glad_ he's locked up. A stupid set of circumstances that happened to come together in just the right way at just the right time? Fate? Chaos? I don't even know." Slumping down on the tabletop, she took a couple of deep breaths, telling herself to keep control. Her eyes burned, and wetness began to roll silently down her cheeks onto the table. She didn't heave for breath or sniffle; Teva was resigned to her tears, and let them come, sitting there very silent and very still. Finally, when she felt the burning begin to fade, she swallowed hard and whispered, "Of course I'd come, you fucking asshole."

Each of her words stung Brandon hard, but he didn't argue against any them. He sat there and let them sting, knowing damn well he deserved the ones meant for him directly, and just hoping to soak up some of her anger at everything else so maybe it would stop beating her down so badly.

"I'm sorry," he said again, just as soft as her last curse, because it was the only thing he could do. It wasn't like he could just waltz on over there and give her a hug. Hell, he wasn't even exactly sure where 'there' was.

Instead, he pushed himself up a little higher in the bed and tried to give her a look that displayed just how sorry he was, and how he wished he could take it back, and how much he truly missed her. His hand came up for a second, but he curled his fist and set it back down, not wanting to reach in the wrong direction.

"Can you...I can't see you. Can I just, can I touch you, please? I need to...I need..."

He let his voice choke off, quickly becoming overwhelmed with just how much he needed that touch, more than just a hand helping him with a tray, but to _really_ feel her; to touch her face, her arms, to kiss her hands, to hold her against his chest, everything to confirm that she wasn't just an angry voice across the room. He _needed_ her, and prayed to god that she needed it too, because it would utterly crush him if she let her anger keep her away.

Teva's first thought was a rushed, embittered 'I don't wanna be touched.' On the heels of that was a wordless desire in direct contradiction to it. Her ankle bounced in the air. She knew it was the anger holding her back, and also the ingrained need to control that anger, to protect him from it.

But he needed her, was asking very nicely. Brandon had nothing to say in response to any of her words but 'I'm sorry' and 'can I touch you?' It sapped some of the strength from her rage away, and she found herself nodding weakly. Upon remember that he wouldn't be able to note the gesture, she whispered the word "yes" as she forced herself up out of the chair.

With economic motion, Teva placed Bran's cup on the top tray, and collapsed the pieces back together. After she'd rolled it back up toward his head, she reached for his hand. His grip was surprisingly tight. The strength in it made her bite her lip as fresh sorrow sprung up in her eyes.

L.A. was too hot this time of year now for jackets. Hers was stuffed in her bag, leaving her in a soft cotton tank top similar to the one she'd worn at Red's, a little loosely cut, though this one was a dark indigo color. As with the other one, she'd skipped the wearing of a bra. Her breasts were small enough that she could get away with it, and the shirt loose enough that no one would really notice. Keeping in mind the oppressive heat, her denim shorts were cut a little on the small side.

Though her minimalist attire had been helpful to her on the way there, trapped on a plane with a bunch of other people whose bodies were radiating heat, and in the airports with their inefficient cooling technology in terrible need of an update, in the climate controlled clinic it made her skin pebble with gooseflesh, or maybe it was just the touch of his hand. Either way, a little shiver ran down her spine, and she wanted to crawl up in the bed, wrapping her limbs around Brandon for both comfort and warmth. Teva didn't; she waited for Brandon to tell her what he wanted from her. They were touching now. So what was next?

The second Teva put her hand in his, Brandon held on for dear life. It was real, she was real, not just a cruel dream come to taunt him only to be ripped away by somebody telling him it was morning. Pulling her hand up against his face, he rested her fingers against his forehead for a second before bringing it down to press a long kiss on her knuckles. His other hand moved up to touch her arm, sliding his fingers up her bare flesh to her shoulder. He had to sit up higher, and pull her down a little further (a maneuver that caused him to wince a little as his sore muscles from Eric's last "don't be a whiner, we're working the shit out of your torso" PT session protested the action) before he could reach her face. There was moisture on her cheeks, which was the breaking point in him keeping control over his own, and in light touches he ghosted his fingers across her eyes, her nose, her lips.

"Oh, god, I missed you," he whispered, his voice quavering, and cried out more apologies. "I'm so sorry, Teva. I'm so, so sorry. I love you. I'd never hurt you on purpose, and I'm sorry I put you through that. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, I'm so sorry."

He leaned in and wrapped his arms around her waist, crying into the front of her shirt, determined to hang onto her forever if he could, not just for his sake but for hers as well. His tears weren't for him, not for his blindness or his weakness, but for her. They were for what he imagined she must have felt, how _he_ felt after Nate had left him, for him being responsible for tearing that hole in her chest. It filled him with a deep sense of sorrow and guilt, and it wasn't something he could ever take back, but it was something that maybe he could make better. He was alive, and he was holding her, and his warm tears pressing against her chilled skin were a promise that he would never leave her again. Not as long as he could help it.

Her arms wrapped around his back tightly. It was an automatic reaction, something she couldn't have even controlled the second he pulled her close and closed his grasp around her waist. Brandon's delicate caresses and sincere, frantic apologies had brought on another weepy wave. She fought against them, not wanting to reveal just how much he'd affected her. Besides, one crying person was enough. Her breath came out shaky, and she wound her fingers through his hair, making those quiet shushing noises that seemed to be ingrained in all people. "It's okay," Teva told him, her voice a soft, melodic lull, "It's okay. We're alright."

The moment seemed to be suspended in molasses, just her and him, clinging to each other like they were the only rafts in the ocean some poor shipwrecked victims had. Eventually though, Brandon's tears began to slow and he grew quieter, steadying his breath.

"Just...let's never do this again, okay? 'Cause as much as I like a little drama in my life, this is too much. Bran, you've used up my yearly drama quota," she joked and chuckled dryly.

Brandon let himself laugh a little at that and turned his head so his voice wasn't muffled, but he didn't let up on his grip at all. "Wasn't planning on making any more blind dates with a baseball bat anyway. Turns out she takes that shit a little too literally for my taste."

It was dark humor, probably inappropriate, but that's all he had at the moment. He could feel himself starting to shake a little with the strain of holding himself at the awkward angle he was maintaining, but he didn't want to let her go, not yet. His fingers clenched tighter into the material of her tank as if the thin fabric could really hold him whenever his body told him it had had enough, but it gave him the drive to stay up for one precious minute longer before she must've realized what was going on.

As she began to settle him back against the pillows he continued to cling to her, pulling her down with him. "No, not yet," he begged, knowing he was acting incredibly childish, but not wanting to be without that contact. As long as he was touching her, holding her, she couldn't go anywhere. He didn't _need_ to see her as long as he just held on.

"Okay," she sighed her agreement, scooting up onto the mattress, thankful that the bottom rails weren't up. Apparently they weren't concerned about Bran rolling out of bed anytime soon. Teva could see why. Just that little bit of effort spent holding himself upright had made him shake.

Settling next to him, she rubbed her cheek against his hair affectionately. "I missed you," Teva confessed in a low whisper, and kissed his temple. She brushed his nose with hers. Pausing with her lips over his, she breathed out quietly, savoring this moment of unexpected sweetness and the anticipation before she finally let her lips glide over Brandon's in a gentle caress, so soft it might have merely been the breeze.

Brandon's lips pulled into grin that was both grateful and genuinely amused at the same time. She tasted like burger, and all he could think was that he wanted more. Adjusting the hold he still hadn't released her from, one of his hands traveled up to the back of her head so he could pull her close for a real kiss. He pressed into her hard, deep, almost desperate, letting himself forget for a minute that he was in a brightly lit room at the clinic. For once his blindness worked in his favor, and he was able to imagine them being back in his bed at the apartment, the room nearly pitch black in the late hours of the night, neither of them needing to see because they knew every inch of each other's bodies by touch alone.

A woman's voice broke through his moment with a laugh. "Whoa, okay, clearly I'm intruding on...something..." It was Mattie.

Brandon froze, not certain what the nurse was going to do, and followed the sounds of her footsteps as she got closer. "You both stay right where you are, I'm just going to unhook you here..."

Teva smiled at Mattie as she came in the room, and unhooked Brandon's heart monitor. The woman winked at her knowingly, and it almost made Teva start to blush.

He had gotten so used to being constantly attached to the monitors that he hardly even noticed the wires anymore. Now that he thought about it, he was probably about to get himself and Teva all tangled up in the lines.

"Okay, there you go," Mattie continued. "Now when your heart rate starts climbing there won't be any more concerned nurses rushing in to your rescue. Clearly you don't _need_ rescuing. I'm going to go, and I'll shut the door behind me. Make sure you get rid of that milkshake cup before Dr. Peters comes to check on you in the morning, and you better save some of your strength for PT tomorrow. Eric's not going to let you have another free day, you know. Have a good night."

"Thanks, Mattie," Brandon muttered, a little mortified by the whole ordeal. As soon as he heard the door click shut though he started to laugh. One of his hands covered his eyes in embarrassment as he continued, still holding Teva close with the other one. "Ohhh, my god. That was...where were we?"

"Where were we?" she repeated, and laughed. "You know, for a former _player_, you certainly embarrass easily." Teva lightly traced her fingertips over one hot, blushing cheek. "As for where we were," the pads of her fingers glided lower, tracing his bottom lip, "I think it was right about here." Her voice had dropped into a low, intimate whisper, matching the romantic gesture.

_Having someone walk in on you in bed is not the same as publicly flirting!_ Brandon was going to say, but decided to let it go in favor of catering to her last gesture. This time it was her who leaned in to kiss him, following right behind the touch of her finger on his lip. He happily sank into her kiss, and gave back in return, perfectly happy with knowing that they probably weren't going to get much further than that in the physical department for a while. It was good enough just having her there, in his arms, his lips pressing into hers for as long as his strength would allow.

Fuck Eric's PT. If he woke up too tired to do anything productive in the morning it would be well worth the troll's scolding. He had some catching up to do.

They kissed until her lips had that plump, sensitive feeling to them that said she'd probably look a little bee-stung the next day. When Brandon's responses started lagging, her stomach let out a petulant growl reminding her of her unfinished meal.

Teva pulled away laughing. "That's my cue. I need to finish eating before my stomach starts gnawing on my other internal organs."

Brandon smiled sleepily, and let his head drift back onto the pillow. "Okay," he murmured with a little laugh in his tone as well.

"Maybe I could get one of the girls to find me a cot too, and I could spend the night?" she suggested hopefully. It was kind of late, after all, and she wasn't looking forward to trying to find a hotel at this hour. She was already tired, and couldn't fathom traveling any more.

"Sounds great," Bran agreed, and lifted her hand to his lips to brush a tiny kiss on her knuckles once more.

"Alright," she stated, gently disentangling herself from the wires, and sliding off the bed. As soon as Teva was done eating, she was going to step back out by the desk and see about that cot.

Too tired to put up any more resistance as Teva's hand finally broke contact with his, there was still a tiny flare of panic and loss as she moved out of Brandon's reach. He settled on playing the 'I'm not blind, just closing my eyes' game again, listening intently to every sound she made. Despite his best efforts, he found himself falling into a light doze while she ate. It wouldn't be too much longer before he wouldn't be able to fight sleep anymore, and the thought that he might wake up to all this having been just a wonderfully realistic dream still niggled at the edge of his thoughts.

"Tell them to push the cot right next to the bed, okay?" he murmured, but couldn't even keep himself conscious long enough to hear her reply. He just had to hope that if he reached out for her in the morning that she'd be there.

* * *

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

Coming Home

Chapter Two

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: cussing, sex, schmoop, angst

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun people. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Eventually Feral and Mattie, who had taken Darlene's place at the desk so the curly-haired woman could go get some much-needed sleep, did get a cot in the room. She explained while they were setting it up that they were short staffed at the clinic since two of their nurses had called in sick for the night shift. It took some rearranging, and Mattie explained apologetically that it had to go up against the wall just in case something happened; the medical staff needed to be able to reach Brandon's bed from all sides.

"It's okay, I understand," Teva had said, but Mattie still looked apologetic about it. "Really," she'd assured the nurse.

"I'm glad you're here," Mattie had whispered confidentially before she left the room. "This has been really hard on him. I hope he'll perk up a little now that you're here."

Teva had smiled wistfully, turning the look onto Brandon, who was sleeping peacefully through it all, and murmured, "Me too." Then she took off her shoes and socks, and slid under the cool white sheets and the two thin blankets that the nurses had rustled up for her. She slept abnormally hard, barely stirring as the nurses came through and did their checks.

It must have been late in the morning when she heard an accented voice exclaim, "_Mira_, I _told you_ she would come." Teva cracked open her eyes, gaze landing on Mrs. Reyes, and an Amerindian man with a long, graying braid that could only be Mr. Reyes. Grunting, she waved weakly, turned onto her opposite side, and determinedly closed her eyes again. Unless there was soycaf, she wasn't moving for at least another hour.

Mr. and Mrs. Reyes sat down, peaceful smiles on their faces as they let the young ones sleep, and waited patiently while Kristi came in to do a morning check on Brandon's readings. She stayed quiet, too, having heard from Mattie about B's happy little reunion, and looked like she had to stifle a chuckle every time she glanced over at Teva. The last time those two graced the clinic together they'd definitely been close, and it was clear that they cared for one another deeply, but being caught making out in the bed? That was clinic gossip gold, right there. Poor B, he was never going to hear the end of it.

"Why isn't he up yet?" Dr. Peters asked, breaking the room's respectful silence. "I need to run him through his tests before Eric-"

"Shhhh," both Mrs. Reyes and Kristi shushed together, pointing at Teva.

Peters shook his head, but dropped his voice. "My schedule nor the patient's runs on visitors. Wake him up. I've got rounds to make."

"_You_ wake him up," Kristi sassed, throwing the doc a little wink. "I've got rounds too."

With that she was out the door, taking no notice of Peters' eye roll. He turned back to Brandon and touched his shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"Come on, son, its morning. Time to look at those eyes of yours."

Brandon took one long, deep breath before blinking his eyes open. He smiled as he slid his arm out towards one side of the bed, but frowned when his hand went over the edge of the mattress and found nothing but air. His breathing picked up when he tried on the other side only to get the same results.

"Teva?" he asked, sounding a little panicked.

"She is here, mijo, right here," Mrs. Reyes said softly. "Now settle, child, she is trying to sleep."

"Where?" he questioned instead, looking around frantically even though he still clearly wasn't able to focus on anything around him.

He had to be sure. She could sleep in any other morning she wanted to, but just this first time he _had_ to be sure.

Teva was hovering in that place between falling back asleep and waking up the rest of the way indecisively when Bran woke up and started asking for her. With a little grumble, she rolled off the cot, stuffed her feet in her shoes, and shuffled to the bed.

She gave Dr. Peters a sleepy nod of greeting, then sat on the edge of Bran's mattress. "I'm right here." Still not completely awake, Teva leaned her head against his. "Can't have the cot by the bed in case of an emergency. Mattie and I rearranged some stuff last night so it would fit up against the wall and still have enough room for the chairs."

Leaning away, she yawned and rubbed her eyes a little like a grumpy kid. "Soycaf. Need soycaf. Too much blood in my caffeine stream."

The tension disappeared from Brandon's body immediately at Teva's touch and at that little bit of her familiar morning grumpiness. That made him feel a little bad about making her get up, especially since he knew damn well how much she hated getting up early, but he had needed that affirmation that she hadn't been a dream. He found her hand down on the mattress, thinking if this _was_ a dream and he was actually still trapped in that coma, then he could just stay there until he died.

"I will get you your caffeine," Mrs. Reyes kindly offered.

"She likes it black," Brandon instantly pointed out, then followed that with, "Can I have one?"

"No, you most certainly cannot have one," Peters shot down in an exasperated tone. "Bad enough my nurses were letting you have milkshakes. Don't give me those looks. I've been here long enough to know when those ladies _and_ my patients are up to no good. Can't slip very much by me nowadays."

Mr. Reyes chuckled lightly from his chair as both Brandon and Teva apologized, but neither of them sounded at all sincere.

"You may have juice," the doc continued, "and if you behave during your tests, I'll let your nana go down to the nurse's kitchen and get you the kind that comes in orange-banana slushy."

Brandon perked up at that with a ready nod much like a kid at boot camp who was promised no cleaning detail for doing something right. He could hear Mrs. Reyes leave the room, already on her way to get the coveted slushy, so all he had to do was follow doctor's orders to earn it. That was easy, anyway. All Peters ever wanted to do was shine light in his eyes just so everyone could find out that, yes, Brandon was still blind to mostly everything _except_ light being shined in his eyes.

"We're going to do something a little different today, son," Peters said.

_Now_ Bran tensed up again, squeezing Teva's had a little tighter. Things going outside his normal routine as far as playing lab rat went made him nervous, creating fears in his mind that a test would solidly prove that his blindness was permanent. As long as the doc kept telling him that the treatments might work, he could still hold on to that little bit of hope, but if he was told he'd definitely be sightless forever...

The sound of something large being rolled into the room brought his attention back to Peters. "What is that?" he couldn't help but ask.

"This," the doc started, slapping his hand against something metallic, "is a very large sunlamp spotlight. I want to see how well-defined your shadow sight is. Maybe we can get Teva to stand in front of it and play model. Hope you don't mind us calling you by your given name, by the way. Memories and information tend to come back to coma patients in bits and pieces over time, and your boyfriend accidentally spilled the beans. We've all gotten rather used to referring to you properly since your name came up several times." The wheels squeaked on the light thing as Peters seemed to be moving it into position. "Brandon seems to fancy you quite a bit."

Teva's eyebrows went up at the use of her given name. Shit, they knew? Everybody knew? Not that it was a big deal. Doctors were bound to confidentiality. Anything revealed during treatment was blanketed by that beautiful piece of HIPPA. She almost turned a look on Bran until she remembered that it would be lost on him.

Finally, she just squeezed his hand a little, and told the doctor, "I don't care what you call me. Sarah's been my name almost as long as Teva has. The only reason I use Sarah is because it matches my ID."

"Sorry," Brandon whispered.

Bumping him with her shoulder, she drawled, "It's no biggie." After a little pause, Teva continued teasingly, "So you _fancy _me?"

A little grin played on his lips even as his cheeks began to burn.

Teva laughed delightedly, and shared a little amused glance with Mr. Reyes.

That was when Mrs. Reyes returned with-dun duh dah daaaah!-caffeine!

Patting Bran's hand, she murmured, "I'm gonna go get my coffee from Mrs. Reyes and stand in front of the light, okay?"

Brandon squeezed her hand, but nodded and let go a second later. "Okay," he agreed.

Walking over to the older woman, Teva reached out gratefully. "Oh my god, you have no idea how much I love you right now," she blurted out as she took a large gulp of too-hot coffee. It burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and Teva hopped from foot to foot until the pain went away.

Everybody started chuckling, and Brandon asked, "What? What's so-?"

"I burned my mouth, baby," Teva answered. "Everybody's laughing at me 'cause I just did the 'oh my god, that hurts so bad, but I don't wanna spit it out' dance."

Bran chuckled as well once he was let in on the joke.

Turning to the doctor, the adept asked, "So where do you want me, doc?"

"Just come stand in front of the light. You can even bring your soycaf." He winked.

More chuckles erupted.

"Ha, ha," Teva snarked, and stepped where Peters had directed her.

"Do I get mine?" Brandon asked.

"Ah-ah," Peters denied as Mrs. Reyes was about to hand over the slushy. "First of all, you haven't done the test yet. Second of all, if you're holding onto it when I turn this light on it's likely to melt a little faster than it should, and then you'd just have a cup of regular juice. You don't want that, do you?"

Brandon shook his head. Even though he had long since graduated from ice chips and popsicles, he still enjoyed the cold, flavored, crushed ice moving down his throat. Plus, the slushies had some added sugar in them that wouldn't taste quite as good in regular juice form.

"Okay," Peters continued. "Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, I'm sorry but I'll have to ask you to leave the room. I don't have enough of the specialized glasses for everyone here. I'll come fetch you as soon as the test is over."

"We will be right outside," Mrs. Reyes promised, taking Brandon's slushy with her as they stepped out and shut the door. He may have pouted just a little at that, even despite what the doctor had just said.

The doc went on with his explanation as he handed the glasses out, holding onto Brandon's until he reached up and took them for himself. "This lamp does put out quite a bit of ultraviolet light, so keep those on. We don't need to be damaging anybody's eyes on top of everything else. Teva, stand still for me, and keep your back turned to the light. This will probably feel warm, a bit like a tanning booth."

"Oh, great, I could use a little more color," she joked.

Brandon grinned until he slipped the glasses on, then his brows furled in confusion. "I can't see _anything_ with these on. How is this supposed to work?"

"Trust me, you'll see just fine when this beam is pointed directly at you. Don't take your glasses off. I'm turning it on in three...two...one..."

Sure enough, the darkness gave way to the same bright flare that Brandon usually saw whenever that penlight was pointed at his face, only this time it was on a much grander scale. Instead of a spot in the dark, his whole field of vision was filled with that soft, yellow-white glare.

"Oh, wow," he whispered, happy to see something other than gray.

"Brandon, turn your head a little to the left," Peters directed, then waited for him to comply. "Can you see Teva?"

"There's a...a shadow, I think...I don't know." He squinted his eyes as he tried to force that little bit of darkness to take shape, forgetting that it wasn't his eyes that were the problem.

Peters gave out more directions. "Teva, slowly raise up one of your arms to the side."

"Yes, there!" Brandon blurted out almost immediately. Movement he was good with, but as soon as she stopped it was still nearly impossible to see where she was. They went through a few more drills where the doc had her doing different things, testing Brandon's range of vision, which was only serving to agitate him when he was unable to see any actual human-like shape engulfed in light. Even as just a shadow he was hoping to _see_ her, to make out where her head met her body, where her arms hung down at her sides; but all he could make out was the difference between light reaching his eyes once second, and being blocked by something the next when a formless object passed through it. In a moment of frustration he moved his hands up to rip the glasses off his face, hoping with the full power of the light that he'd be able to get _something_.

"No, Brandon!" Peters ordered, and shut down the light before the glasses were fully removed. He immediately rushed over to his patient's side and pulled Brandon's eyelids open, taking a look at the pupillary responses to the regular light and to his pen light. "_That_ was not smart," he scolded as he worked, then sat back with a weary sigh. "If you want cybereyes, I'd suggest you wait at least long enough to find out whether the vision center in your brain is functioning properly or not. Otherwise you're just wasting your money. In the meantime, you listen to me when I give you an order."

"Sorry," Brandon muttered. "Are we done?"

Peters patted him on the leg. "For now, yes. You have your second treatment tomorrow. We'll run this test again in a week. If there's any improvement then I'd say it's a good sign that you'll regain at least some measure of your sight back. Don't be discouraged."

Brandon nodded slowly before mumbling, "Can I still have my slushy?"

With a little snort, Peters patted him again and got up to call the Reyeses back in. "He did just fine," the doc fibbed, the cue for nana to go ahead and hand over the prize.

Brandon was happily sipping on a slushy when Teva sidled over and formally introduced herself to Mr. Reyes. "Hi," she said, shaking his hand, "I'm Teva. Sometimes Sarah. Whatever works. I answer to 'em both."

The older man laughed, and cupped his free hand over theirs saying, "It's just a name. I'm Carl Reyes. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a considerable amount about you."

"Oh?" Teva lifted a brow curiously as Mr. Reyes let go of her hand.

"Adelle tells me you're quite the runner," he confided.

At first, she was incredibly confused by that statement. _Adelle..._ Mrs. Reyes looked a little sheepish. Okay, so that answered one question. The next was what he meant by runner. Did he mean the literal translation, one who runs, or the figurative translation, a shadowrunner? Granted, it wasn't like it made a big difference. Hell, they already knew she had a different name than her SIN said she did, and they were all chilling in the Doc Wagon clinic, which was pretty much injured-'runner central.

Mr. Reyes chuckled at whatever he saw in her expression, the skin around his eyes crinkling up with his humor. "I mean this is how she told me you met. You run in the mornings, do you not?"

"I do," Teva finally relaxed and grinned back. "I find it soothing. Some people meditate, but I find that stillness comes harder for me than most. The only time I can relax without motion is when my brain is too occupied reading."

"Or smoking," Brandon blurted out, "Smoking is like meditation for you; you sit and stare out the window at nothing." A little smile appeared on his face, which faded into something a little more melancholic as he seemed to think of something else.

"Or smoking," Teva agreed with a sheepish look at the doctor, who was already giving her one of those universal 'no, no' looks that all medical professionals developed early on in their careers. She rolled her eyes. "Peters, not the patient; keep your disparaging looks to yourself," she drawled.

He chuckled and shrugged. "I've got to try. I can get you information on methods of quitting, consequences of long term use. It'll catch up with even someone like you sooner or later." The look she shot him was apparently answer enough. "I take that as a no. Very well then. Brandon, I'll be back sometime after your PT session to check up on you again."

"Okay," Bran replied.

The doctor left.

Quietly, Teva moved back toward the bed, perching back on the edge of the mattress. Brandon must have felt the shift in the mattress, because his hand fumbled for her, and latched onto the back of her shirt, tugging toward him a little plaintively.

Obliging, she settled back next to him, finishing up the dregs of her soycaf. He seemed to relax a little after that, his hand on her thigh, the other holding the cup as he finished up his slushie.

Mrs. Reyes took it upon herself to fill the silence. "It's good to see you, Teva. I was worried you had not received my letter, or perhaps that something had happened to you also. We left a letter for you on our door in case you showed up there first." The elderly woman settled into one of the cushy chairs in front of the tiny table whereas Mr. Reyes had taken the recliner, a pinched look of pain on his face as he lowered himself down into it. Bad back, Teva supposed, maybe sciatic.

Unthinkingly, she told them, "I don't know what happened. Snail mail is a little unpredictable sometimes. It did have to cross country borders, after all. Mr. Reyes, you should get your back checked out. I mean, not here, obviously, though you are conveniently located at a clinic, but by your physician or whoever."

Mrs. Reyes shot a triumphant look at her husband. "See? I tell you this, but you do not listen to me." She shot Teva a look. "He says he doesn't _need_ Western medicine. All your shaman cannot make the pain in your back go away. It comes back again and again, yet he refuses to see a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor," he grumbled, his face taking on a mulish, stubborn cast.

It clearly was an old disagreement, and one the two of them seemed to argue out of habit than passion. They had long since given up on persuading the other to their point of view.

Teva chuckled, and noticed that Bran was starting to do the same. She hid her face in his shoulder, muffling her laughter as the older couple continued to bicker good-naturedly. The sudden wonder that if perhaps this was her future with Bran made her breath hitch, and something simultaneously good and scary twisted in her chest.

Lifting her face back up, she stated, "If it's your sciatic, no amount of magical healing is going to fix it. There are some things even magic can't touch. _However_," Teva emphasized as Mr. Reyes started to cut her off, "There is a compromise between the two. If you can find a gifted chiropractor, they can help manage the pain. Frankly, if it is sciatica, there's no cure. The agitation is caused by compression of the spinal nerve endings, and that can be caused by a number of things included but not limited to disc herniation, misalignment, and degenerated discs. It's a pretty common stress injury; as long as you're still walking and talking, you can re-agitate that area again and again."

Mrs. Reyes looked satisfied. Mr. Reyes looked contemplative. He slanted a look at his wife, then back at Teva. "I will consider your words." Wisely, his wife decided to turn her victorious expression to her enormous purse as she dug out something that looked like...yes, it was...a gigantic ball of string, and a set of knitting needles.

That was when Kristi showed up with the breakfast tray, thankfully, otherwise Teva was going to start laughing again

"Okay, Brandon," Kristi started in with her generally sunshiney attitude. "Dr. Peters is starting you on _real_ stuff today, so this morning you get some oatmeal with - you ready for this? - brown sugar, cinnamon, and some little pureed apple chunks! Ta-da! How's that sound?"

"Like it's the second best day of my life," Brandon grinned, then turned in Teva's direction as he gave her thigh a little squeeze. "After yesterday."

He was trying his best to stay in a good mood for her, not wanting to bring her down or possibly scare her off, but that test... He was hoping so much that he'd be able to see something, had let himself believe that he would, so finding out he couldn't was almost as crushing as that day when he couldn't walk. It made him antsy about the test being repeated the following week. What if the second treatment didn't make it any better? The first one certainly hadn't seemed to do anything. Then what? Would he never see that soft, thoughtful, almost peacefully drifting look on Teva's face again as she was haloed in the window's light? Or was he just supposed to cross his fingers and pray the treatment two weeks after might jump-start whatever cell growth was needed to repair the damage?

"You spacin' out on me, B?" Kristi asked, bringing him back to the moment.

"I'm sorry?"

She laughed. "I guess so. I said you're going to have to let go of your girlfriend so she can get up. Unless she wants to be a human table?"

"I don't think so," Teva answered, and gently moved his hand off her thigh so she could slide off the mattress. He let her go and reached back for his little rolling table.

"Here, I can get that," the nurse started, but he shook his head.

"No, I got it." Remembering where Teva had placed his hands the night before, he cautiously went through the process of snapping the tray out of its hole, only needing help once again in moving the table far enough away that he wouldn't hit himself with it. This time he felt for where the edges of the upper table lined up with his body so he'd be able to settle it in the correct location for his next meal.

Kristi set his food down without making any attempts to slip the spoon into his hand like they had been doing for the past several days during his depression. "Look at you, being all Mr. Self-sufficient. Okay, then. Your bowl's right in front of you, spoon's to the right, and since you already had juice we're just going with water for your drink. That's above the bowl on the left. _And _don't eat _too_ fast, but we got just a little behind schedule, so if you want to finish that, let it settle for a little bit, and still have time to get changed for PT, I'd suggest you dig in, unless you want Eric to drag you out of here in your scrubs again."

Brandon shook his head. "No, no, I want my clothes today."

"Thought you might say that. They are washed and ready for you in the closet. Just send someone out or push your call button whenever you're ready, and someone will come help you."

"Why?" Brandon asked. "Between tata and Teva-" He clamped his mouth shut. _Damn_ his blurting.

He heard Teva stifle a laugh. "I can help him with that, yes," she confirmed.

"Well, okay then," Kristi giggled. "Then I'm out. Have a good breakfast, and enjoy your morning while you can. Eric seems a little feistier today than usual."

That turned the pleasurable moan Brandon was about to usher as he put the first spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth to a groan of dread. Eric even feistier? That couldn't be good.

Halfway through Brandon's breakfast, Teva finally screwed up her courage to broach the subject that had been on her mind since waking.

It was quite simple. She may not have been a fashion plate or completely neurotic about it, but the fact was that she'd slept in her clothes last night, hadn't brushed her teeth that morning, and badly needed a shower and some breakfast of her own. Everyone at the clinic was so nice, but there was no way they could afford to feed her. The staff brought their meals with them or went out. DocWagon wasn't a fully equipped hospital, after all. They had a lot of facilities available for their patients, but nothing like a cafeteria for the visitors. Not that she really wanted hospital-quality food anyway.

Plus, she couldn't stay at the clinic continuously. Teva had been surprised they'd made the exception for her last night. Maybe she'd looked as tired as she felt.

Hesitantly, she began, "Bran?"

Something in her tone must have made him pause, because Brandon stopped eating and turned his head in the general direction where her voice had originated from. "Yeah?" He reached slowly for his water, and took a sip out of the straw.

"I have to find a place to stay tonight. Only family members are allowed to spend the night, and legally recognized guardians. Powers of attorney, that sort of thing," Teva explained patiently.

"But you stayed last night," Brandon pointed out succinctly.

"Yeah, I think Mattie must have felt bad for me," she chuckled. "It was one in the morning, I'd been running around frantically all day, and I hadn't even started looking for a hotel. I was pretty exhausted. But you know, I don't wanna push my luck. The gals are good people, but at some point they've got to enforce the rules."

Mrs. Reyes looked sympathetic, and glanced at her husband.

He tipped his chin at her, and shot her a wordless look. Teva caught the disapproval in it, enough to realize that Mrs. Reyes was probably thinking of offering their place up to her. However, like Bran's, it was probably only a one bedroom, meaning that she'd be couch surfing, and in the way, and whatnot. She'd be imposing, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Mr. Reyes was right to put the kibosh on his wife's generosity.

Brandon spooned another mouthful of oatmeal up, considering all that she'd said.

Teva knew he probably didn't want her to go at all, but he had to realize that she couldn't stay there every night with him. Clearing her throat, she stood up, and told him, "I'm going to step outside for a minute and burn one, okay?"

"Wait," he blurted out just as she was about to cross the threshold of the door, "The safe house. It still has the same security protocols from the 'run, and it's furnished and everything. You-" Brandon's nose crinkled up in a little moue of disgust. "You may have to clean out the fridge though. It's probably not gonna be pleasant in there."

Teva nodded even though Brandon couldn't see it. "That's great," she grinned, "Thank you."

Bran smiled to himself, and continued eating.

"Be back in a bit," Teva reminded him, and left.

Outside, the day was bright and hot, the street busy with pedestrians and vehicles. She leaned against the building, letting the sun beat down on her as she lifted her cigarette up to her lips. Brandon was right, smoking was her form of meditation. It was there that it finally hit her just how bad Bran's condition was. He could barely stand, much less walk, and couldn't see. Not only was his career pretty much over, but there were no guarantees he'd ever recover fully.

Shit. Magic couldn't fix this. Science apparently wasn't helping much either.

How long was she going to be gone this time? Would it be better just to start looking for an apartment in L.A. and have her things shipped out to her? Have Sarah apply for residency in the PCC? That was a long process, and it may take months or even years to process. Maybe she could hire a hacker to build her an identity linked to the PCC already? She did have those international accounts under the name Jazmin Sala. Never having used the identity for much other than financial transactions and a few odd jobs, it probably wouldn't take too much effort to tweak the SIN.

She was smoking the filter. Fucking. Awesome.

Teva pitched it away, and slipped back in the clinic in time to hear a jovial, booming voice exclaim, "Why aren't you dressed yet, man? Are we working in your PJs again today?" Poking her head in the doorway, her eyes landed on a ginormous troll with some blondish-red hair spiked up on top of his head. He looked... The guy glanced her way, his grin widening. "There's a very pretty girl in your doorway, Brandon. Is this, by any chance, your lady?"

Slowly, Teva glanced down at herself, crossed her arms under her chest as she leaned against the jamb, and drawled, "I don't see any ladies." She smiled sarcastically. "Well, except the one over by the window."

Adelle tittered, and her needles clacked together with an increasingly furious pace

"Eric, Teva. Teva, Eric, my trainer," Brandon introduced, "who's _early._ Kristi said I'd have time to eat and change before PT."

"I _am_ early. We have got a big day today, sport, and as much as I don't mind taking you out in your PJ's, I'm sure you'd prefer to be clothed."

That nervous apprehension started creeping up Brandon's spine again. "Taking me out?"

"Yep. The plan is-" The troll walked across the room towards him. "You done with this? Oh, good, you ate it all. That's good. You'll need the energy." The tray and table disappeared back to its home by the head of the bed before the heavy footsteps crossed over towards where Bran had figured the closet to be. A few seconds later his sweats were tossed against his chest.

"Put those on. You'll find a little something extra in there that you'll need too." Brandon barely had a chance to filter out the new article of clothing before Eric continued. "You're gonna hit the bars first, see if you can't make that second step, and then we're going to the pool."

Brandon's head shot up, sure that the color had drained from his face. "No, no, no, no, you can't take me to the pool. You don't _have_ a pool here. That would be...people would see me. Just- let's just go to the gym like we always do, and I'll do whatever you want."

"You don't have a problem with being wheeled out to the gardens. People see you there," Eric countered.

"No, that's different. I'm in the chair, and clothed, and not doing anything, and it's by the clinic where people _expect_ to see people looking like...like this. The pool's...they'll stare at me..."

Eric's voice softened. "Water therapy is one of the best things for muscle atrophy, Brandon. You can move around mostly under your own power without anyone having to hold you up, and it's very easy on the body. Clinics, hospitals, retirement homes, special care facilities, they all use the pool on a regular basis. We're going to be there during one of the aquatic dance classes for the elderly, so it won't be open to the general public. We'll have our own little space to work in. Nobody's going to stare."

The thought of himself being mostly naked in a public facility still made Brandon feel incredibly shy and self-conscious. His body was barely more than flesh and bone at the moment, the only muscle mass on him coming from the little bit he'd built up over the last few weeks of PT. The thought that people could see the full extent of his withered self both shamed and frightened him. "Can I...could I at least wear a t-shirt...or something?"

"That's the spirit," Eric spouted out as he moved to the other side of the bed and went about detaching Brandon from the monitors. "Yes, I'll wrestle you up a shirt to wear that'll be appropriate for swimming. I'll go do that now while you get dressed."

"Thanks," Brandon answered half-heartedly as the troll fairly skipped out of the room by the sounds of his steps. After that, he made no move to start the changing process even though he was more than capable of at least swapping out the scrub top for the sweatshirt. Picking at the fabric, he kept his face turned away from everyone. "You don't, uh, you guys don't have to watch...if you don't want to..."

He had a vision of himself splashing around like a three-year-old on their first panicked day in the water, and decidedly didn't want anyone who knew him to witness that. Sighing, he fumbled at his shirt and pulled it off his head before quickly covering himself again with the sweatshirt only to find the tag poking him in the front.

People were all sorts of messing with his routine that day, and he was _really_ starting not to like it

Teva understood Brandon's hesitance about having them come with for his physical therapy session. One moment he'd been fine, a fully functional human being, able to walk around, feed himself, get dressed without assistance; things that most people took for granted. Then he'd woken up blind and barely able to stand. Brandon didn't need to see himself to know how much his body, his appearance must have changed.

He was so pale and thin, and scruffy looking. He needed a haircut and a decent shave, and some clothes that looked like something he'd actually buy himself. But she still loved him. All of those changes, but they hadn't altered the way she felt about him one little bit.

Turning to Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, Teva asked them, "Could we get a moment alone?"

"Of course," Mrs. Reyes hurriedly agreed, shoving her knitting back into her bag, and pausing briefly for a moment as Mr. Reyes stood up and moved with her. "We will go have some tea in the waiting room."

'Thank you,' Teva mouthed as they passed by her. Adelle gently gripped her arm and squeezed, nodding her head.

Closing the door behind them, she took slow, measured steps to Brandon's bed, making a little extra noise than she usually would when walking so he'd know where she was. "Hey." Her voice came out quiet, but steady. "Let me help." She tugged on his sweatshirt

Brandon blew out a long, calming breath and nodded his head slowly while she helped him pull his arms back out of the sleeves. He spoke quietly while she got the shirt turned around the proper way. "I _can_ put a shirt on by myself, you know. I just got...distracted."

He didn't know why he felt the need to tell her that. It was probably just because he didn't want her to see him as being _completely_ helpless. His mental faculties were mostly still intact, after all; a little fritzy here and there, but still functional on normal human levels. He was just...lacking in physical strength - temporarily...and blind - temporarily. He hoped, anyway. Basically, he was only _temporarily_ helpless - _mostly_ helpless - and it was important to him that she understood that.

Or maybe he needed to say it out loud for himself to hear, because some days hanging onto to the _temporarily_ part was too damn hard.

"I know," she answered, her voice just as quiet as his had been while her hands gently tugged down the bottom of the shirt to adjust it properly.

The thought that he couldn't make the same claim with his pants irked him, and he had swim trunks he was supposed to deal with on top of just getting the scrub pants exchanged for the sweats. Knowing what his legs probably looked like, he was filled with that dreaded self-consciousness all over again, this time not for what strangers might think, but for what his own girlfriend might think. His fingers gripped the blanket almost on their own power, desperate to keep her from seeing what was hidden beneath even though it had only been earlier that morning that he'd been willing to let Teva help him. It had been a stupid thought, a fantasy flashback to plenty of nights of 'helping' each other get undressed. This wasn't the same, not like that at all. There was nothing appealing about unveiling his body as it was now. If she was smart, she'd be disgusted by what she'd find.

"You don't have to...I can buzz a nurse, or Eric, or...someone. You don't...need to see what...what I look like.

She left the blanket alone for the moment, sighing as she sidled close and propped her chin on top of Brandon's dark, messy hair. "You don't have anything to be embarrassed about, you know. It's just me. And...Bran, do you remember what you looked like when we first met up again?" Teva asked abruptly. "I mean, that was _not good_, no offense."

He'd been pale and sickly looking back then too, strung out on drugs and barely sleeping.

"I'll admit, you started putting on a little extra weight once we were done with our little soiree at the clinic, but you weren't exactly model material, if you know what I mean," she drawled sardonically.

Brandon let out a little dry huff that might have been a laugh, but remained silent otherwise.

"And somehow you still managed to get me to have sex with you!" Teva crowed, smiling as Brandon_ actually_ chuckled. Sitting down abruptly on the bed, she cupped his face between her hands, reminding him, "I have seen you in all manner of embarrassing situations. If you could not dissuade me with_ Exorcist_-style vomiting, then I doubt this is going to send me packing either."

Then Teva kissed him, and went for the kill, murmuring, "I love you."

There was a suspended moment of time when Brandon's breath caught in his throat. If he'd had the ability to do so, his eyes would've snapped up to meet hers, searching for sincerity in those expressive windows that often betrayed what she was feeling. Visual confirmations were lost to him now though, and possibly forever, so he'd have to find it elsewhere. It had to come in her touch, in the sound of her voice, in the way that she breathed.

"Say it again," he barely whispered, afraid asking her would insult her, but needing to hear it when he was prepared for it as much as he had needed to feel her touch the night before. It wasn't about trusting her word, it was about trusting himself, not being able to link a picture up to what his ears were telling him was real. He couldn't risk it being a figment of his imagination, a wish his mind had willed into false reality.

Seeing was believing, and he didn't have 'seeing,' so he needed to hear her say it, just one more time.

"I love you," she complied, and brushed their lips together once more. Then letting her lips move against his in tiny, minuscule kisses, Teva whispered, "I love you."

"Ah!" she squeaked as a pair of arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her down onto Brandon's chest, and crushing her there. Laughing with her mouth against his throat, Teva purred against his Adam's apple, "I love you." Squirming against his hold until he loosened his grip, she wiggled, working her mouth along his neck in delicate kisses and nibbles and licks until she reached his earlobe. She sucked that tender bit of flesh into her mouth, and nipped it as she pulled back, breathing, "I love you," letting her breath cool her saliva.

She felt giddy with it, saying aloud what she'd known for so long, flying high on the rush.

"Do you believe me now?" Teva asked lightly, running her nose down the side of Brandon's neck, then licking a long wet stripe back up until she nipped his chin

"Yes," Brandon laughed, believing that despite his condition, despite where he was, despite the fear and anger and hopelessness that was on a constant loop through his head, this was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life. It had seemed like he'd been waiting an eternity to hear those words, and with them a good portion of his anxiety vanished like it had never existed. As it turned out he had been wrong those long months ago - he got to be one of the lucky few who apparently _did_ get to keep his little piece of Heaven.

He was also quickly discovering that a certain part of his lower extremities did, in fact, still work just fine.

"Okay, stop, stop," he chuckled, reluctantly pulling her away from his neck. He leaned in until he found her mouth and exchanged one last, long kiss before he gently pushed her back. "I don't exactly want to be advertising what we were doing in here."

His eyes shifted downward a little bit, which must've been enough for Teva to get the hint because she choked on a little laugh before saying, "Let's get you changed, stud."

Nodding, he was still a little hesitant while pushing the blanket down off his legs even though there was nothing to see just yet. He had his pants on still, so it wasn't until they came off would she realize the full extent of the deterioration in his muscle.

_At least I gained back a little from PT,_ he thought as sat up to swing his legs off the opposite side of the bed from where she was sitting, making sure he had his balance centered properly so he wouldn't fall off.

"If you just, um, I just need someone to keep me steady and I can get these off pretty much on my own. It's the getting things _on_ that I have more trouble with."

"Okay," she said softly, and scooted closer behind him, holding the arm he had braced against the bed with a firm grip.

They managed to get him ready without too much difficulty, just in time for a loud knock to bang on the door.

"Clock's ticking, sport," Eric's voice rang out.

"Just a sec!" Brandon hollered back over his shoulder. He lowered his voice to talk to Teva again. "I know you probably, uh, want to go get cleaned up and changed and everything, but could you maybe...this whole pool thing has me kind of freaked out...and maybe if you were there...?"

"Yes," Teva agreed unhesitatingly, "If you can stall Eric for five more minutes. I can deal with being unwashed if I at least have clean clothes on, and am able to brush my teeth." Patting his hand perfunctorily, she bounced up off the bed.

"Deal," Brandon nodded as Eric knocked on the door again.

The trainer called out, "Everything okay in there?"

"We're fine," Bran answered, "Just need another moment."

Teva unzipped her bag hurriedly with one hand, and started popping the button and zipper on her shorts with the other. She had them and her underwear around her ankles a moment later, searching with the other hand for a fresh pair of panties. Finally, she found them tucked in the little pocket, stepping out of her old clothes as she put the new ones on. That day's pants were gray capris-the first viable bottoms Teva unearthed-and white wife-beater.

"Balls, where the hell did I pack my bras?" she muttered to herself, and found them buried almost at the bottom of the bag. Her little "ah ha!" of triumph made Brandon smile a bit. The indigo tank was discarded, the nude-colored bra clipped on, and the wife-beater tugged over her head in a second. She had a gray pinstriped fedora shoved in one corner of the bag, and slammed that on top of her greasy hair.

Finally, socks and shoes, and then Teva was skidding into the bathroom, her toiletry bag in hand.

She heard Eric knock again, and Brandon murmur something, but she couldn't hear over the sound of the faucet. A hurried spit and rinse later, and the adept was flying back into the room to cram her things back in her bag just as the door opened.

Eric's ginormous head poked in. "Everybody decent?" he wanted to know. His eyes were closed, which was appreciated but also unnecessary.

"What? You think I convinced him now was a good time for a quickie?" Teva snarked while she slipped her comm into her pocket and her cigarettes in the other.

Brandon made some sort of alarmed choking sound, probably thinking her statement was a little too close to what they really had been doing.

Eric opened his eyes, booming out a laugh, and stepped further into the room. "Wouldn't put it past you," he chuckled, and winked a little deviously.

Teva rolled her eyes, crossing her arms under her chest forbiddingly. Then she drawled, "In case you hadn't already assumed, yes, I'm coming with to the pool."

"Great," the trainer agreed with genuine enthusiasm, and clapped his hands. "Then, Bran, let's get you into the chair so we can get it going."

* * *

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

Coming Home

Chapter Three

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Eric got Brandon in the chair and rolled him over into the bathroom for a quick pit stop before they gathered up the Reyeses and made their way to the gym.

Teva was rolling a skein of yarn into a ball, which had been offered to her by Mrs. Reyes when the older woman noticed her antsy shifting from foot to foot, while Brandon prepared to do his exercise. Oh, she was watching, don't get the wrong idea. She just didn't think that Brandon really appreciated a hawkish gaze on his every movement.

To be honest, she felt pretty superfluous at the moment. All she could really do was stand there and cheer him on, and she didn't want to make him nervous or distract him.

So there she was, a highly trained martial artist, marksman, and shadowrunner, leaning against the wall next to Mrs. Reyes' chair_ rolling yarn into a ball_. Teva made a mental note to buy some more e-books. If this was going to become a daily thing, she was going to need stuff to occupy herself with.

As Brandon was being positioned between the bars he kept up an inner mantra of 'two steps, you can do this. You almost did it before. Just two steps.'

Teva wouldn't judge him if he couldn't do it, he knew that, but he really wanted to make her proud of him. That in itself made him feel a bit melancholic. The last time they were together it was sad little things like 'I don't feel like killing myself today!' or 'I haven't been tempted to take a hit in five hours!' that were the goals he strove for in order to gain her approval. Now it was the simple act of taking two shuffling steps. _How_ she could fall for someone like him was a little bit baffling, considering all the things she had to put up with in order to be with him.

"You ready, kiddo?" Eric asked, quieter than normal as he held Brandon up against his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, ease back slow, okay?"

Trying a different tactic this time, Brandon began shifting his weight before the troll could completely let go so that he wouldn't waste so much energy standing there gathering courage. The second Eric's hands were no longer in contact with his body he focused very hard on centering himself between his arms and one leg so that he could pick his free foot off the ground just a tiny bit. That way he could take more of an actual step instead of just sliding his foot along like a lead weight. Once he had it planted firmly in front of him, he took a few steadying breaths before adjusting his center of balance again to account for his new stance, and began to pick up the other foot.

"That's it, almost there," his trainer coaxed softly, not loud enough to break Brandon's concentration.

There was a moment when he teetered a little to the side and he had to drop his foot back down to keep himself from falling. Eric's hands were right there under his arms, about to take his weight again, but Brandon shook him of.

"I got it," he huffed. "I got it."

When the troll backed off again, Brandon realigned himself and picked back up where he left off, making sure he got that foot all the way in front of the other before he was finished.

"Okay, I'm done," he alerted his trainer, who immediately got his arms around Brandon before he could crumple.

"_That_ was very good," Eric congratulated. "The pool's gonna be a piece of cake for you."

Brandon didn't have anything to say to that, too busy trying to catch his breath to even attempt to speak just yet.

Teva quickly stuffed the ball of yarn in between her knees and started clapping.

"Congratulations, mijo," Mrs. Reyes called, her grin a flash of white teeth in her bronze face.

Teva whistled, and succinctly corroborated that with an elegantly stated, "Ditto."

Brandon let out a breathless laugh once he was in his chair and being rolled back toward his loyal audience. Mr. Reyes, who hadn't resorted to cheering like the girls had, simply put a strong hand on his shoulder in that more quiet, supportive way that he tended to have.

"Thanks, guys," Brandon said with an appreciative smile. "Two down. How many more to go?"

"It's not gonna matter," Eric told him cheerfully before anyone else had a chance to speak. "Won't be too long before you're breezing through those bars without _having_ to count, then you can go home with your special gal where you won't have us interrupting your private time."

Brandon was sure there was probably a wink punctuating that, and he rolled his eyes. He knew the diversionary tactic for what it was, which made him wonder even more just how long that walk would be. If they didn't want him to know, then he guessed it was probably a little more than a four foot journey. Probably six or eight, and the two feet of difference between the two most likely translated into at least two more days being confined in the clinic.

Suddenly finding himself wrapped in a warm Teva hug, he smiled and hugged her back, setting aside his daunting thoughts. "You did awesome, baby," she told him, pressing her forehead against his.

He took advantage of her precarious balance in having to lean over him, and pulled her down so she was forced to land sitting on his lap.

Eric chuckled, but didn't argue having to push two people. He simply waited until Teva adjusted herself so her legs wouldn't be in the way of the wheels, and started towards the exit. "Time to go swimming!"

* * *

Brandon and Teva were sitting on the edge of the pool with their legs dangling in the water while they waited for Eric to come back from...wherever he went to get whatever he was getting. The troll had gotten Brandon a lycra t-shirt to wear so it didn't drag in the water, but it fit tightly enough to still reveal his weight loss. Feeling incredibly shy about that, he kept his arms wrapped around himself and had kept his towel tucked around his legs until Eric had gotten him out of the chair. That was when he'd insisted on at least hiding his weakened limbs beneath the surface of the water while Eric took off, promising that Teva wouldn't let him fall in. She was doing just that, sitting beside him with her arm linked through his as if they were just a normal couple sitting comfortably at the side of the pool.

"Okay, arms up," Eric instructed as he came back.

Brandon turned his head slightly in the troll's direction, who was now standing close behind him.

"Arms up so I can strap these on," Eric told him again.

"Strap these...? Oh, no, you're not making me wear floaties, are you? Come on, Eric, this is going to be embarrassing enough as it is." Brandon gripped around his middle even tighter.

"First of all," Eric squatted down so he could talk quietly at them, the music from the dance class serving to drown out his voice even more, "I don't think half those folks can see any better than you can, so it's not going to matter. Second of all, if you wear these you can do the drills I give you pretty much on your own while I just hang back and guide you. If you don't, then I'll have to tug you around like a toy boat, because face it, Turbo, you're not strong enough to keep yourself up on your own power just yet."

Brandon thought about it for a second, looking like he wasn't fond of either option. "Can't you give me a board or foam tube thing or _something_?" Anything else, he pled silently.

"Something that requires you having to keep a firm grip on it for more than two minutes?" Eric countered.

Teva leaned into his ear then, speaking almost too softly for him to hear. "Just so you know, half those people over there make the Reyeses look like a couple of spring chickens. In fact, I don't think most of them even noticed that we're in here. Trust me, the only ones watching will be me and Eric."

Heaving out a sigh, Brandon gave in and lifted up his arms, keeping a perturbed look on his face as the flotation devices were wrapped around them. Once that was done, Eric slipped down into the water and put his arms up for Brandon to grab onto, pulling him into the cool water. It actually felt...incredibly good, Brandon thought, and the difference between having to function in regular gravity versus letting buoyancy take control was a welcome change.

"See? Not so bad, is it?" the troll gloated. "Let's get started, and if we have some spare time when we're done, I'll let you just play around for a little bit. How's that sound?"

Brandon gave a smile as his answer, already enjoying himself much more than he thought he would. Moving pretty much under his own power without being afraid of falling down was _good._

He looked surprisingly happy, Teva thought as she watched Brandon splash around in the pool. In the water like that she could almost imagine that he wasn't that horribly injured, that the troll in the pool wasn't there to keep him from drowning accidentally. She could almost picture herself diving into the clear blue water herself, and swimming laps around him while he tried to catch her.

That was the one thing that was kind of nice about Brandon not being able to see: he wouldn't be able to look at her face and see the sadness lurking underneath the surface. He knew her too well now not to be able to determine most of her micro-expressions. It would make him feel awful if he knew that she wasn't quite so nonchalant about this whole situation as she was pretending to be.

The prospect was daunting. Her mind kept jumping to the future, and asking questions like 'what were they going to do?' She had to continually redirect her thoughts to a more immediate focus. Right now, life needed to narrow down to the day to day. She couldn't afford to worry about the future when it was so damn uncertain. Brandon would walk again, eventually, but no one knew whether or not he'd recover his sight. What he would do depended on that, and since what she would do depended on what _he_ would do, there was no way to plan.

Thankfully, Eric was busy with Brandon's exercises, and didn't know her well enough anyway to read the sorrow under her surface expression.

By the time they were finished, Teva had really worked herself back into a corner. There were only questions, no answers at all. She found that she truly didn't like uncertainty.

As Eric was guiding Brandon to the side of the pool a small grin lighted Bran's face.

"Where's Teva sitting?" he asked in a low whisper. She had been too quiet, probably bored out of her mind. Maybe a little fun with the water would liven her up.

"If you're asking because you're about to do what I think you're going to do, then I'm not sure I should tell you," the troll whispered back.

"You didn't let me have free play time," Brandon argued back. "All work, no play..."

Eric snorted out a little chuckle as he rotated his patient around just a little bit. "Right in front of you. I'll give you a signal when we're close enough."

Nodding, Brandon made sure to replace his look of mischief with one of concentration as he pushed himself forward under mostly his own power. When he felt a small tap on his arm from Eric's finger, he cupped his hand slightly and grazed it through the water, sending a pretty impressive splash in Teva's direction. A little squeal came out of her mouth, then a very definite threat, but he could hear the amusement in her tone.

Brandon laughed. "Maybe you should bring your suit next time and get in."

"Consider that challenge accepted. Payback's a bitch," she promised back.

A slew of his vaulted memories slammed back into his head as he thought about her in her bathing suit, an image of he and Teva shopping for something she could wear to the beach, then another time looking for something to wear to the club, and a flash back to them screwing around in the changing room when the clerk was distracted, everything tinged with a hint of bittersweet emotion as he wondered whether or not he'd get to experience those same types of outings again. He wouldn't exactly be the best judge of what looked good on her anymore if he couldn't see what she was showing him.

Eric stopped moving, having apparently reached the edge of the pool. "Okay, sport, let's get you out of the water. You're starting to look a little drained. I think it's time for lunch and a nice, long nap."

"Yeah, I'm kinda tired," Brandon admitted, and let Eric get him dried off and back into his chair.

He fell asleep with his head on Teva's shoulder on the ride back to the clinic.

"Brandon," Teva sang softly, lips hovering over the top of his head as Eric pulled into the clinic's employee lot. "Baby..." She brushed her fingertips over his jaw, then his side, locating unerringly the only ticklish spot that she had, as of yet, discovered: the little span of skin just below his armpit that rarely saw the light of day.

He woke up squirming, and laughing, and bit whatever happened to be in front of his mouth in retaliation, which gave him a mouthful of damp tank top and only the barest pinch to her skin underneath.

"We're back at the clinic," she chuckled.

For a moment, Brandon looked quite pouty about that, then his expression cleared and he sighed, "Alright. Time for lunch then, I guess."

Eric helped get Bran out of the car, and Teva followed behind them, saying hi to the Reyeses as soon as they entered the room.

Brandon greeted them as well with a more familiar, "Hi, Nana. Hi, Tata."

She noted idly that the cot had been removed from the room while they were gone, the chairs restored to their previous arrangements.

They exchanged pleasantries while Kristi came in and did a quick check-up on Brandon's physical status before bringing his lunch. "It's potatoes!" she cried happily while Brandon slowly got his tray set up, and he smiled back at her tone, the expression somewhat lethargic. The little nap in the car hadn't been quite enough to help him recharge.

Halfway through the meal, Teva cleared her throat and said, "Baby, if it's okay with you, I'm going to go get settled in at the safe house, alright? I'll be back around dinner time."

"Okay," he agreed between spoonfuls.

Mr. Reyes also spoke then saying, "We will stay until you get back."

Mrs. Reyes shot her husband a questioning look. Usually they stayed until Brandon went to bed at night.

He smiled at her, then turned the look onto Teva. "You should have some time to yourselves."

"That's not-" His look stopped her in her tracks. Instead, Teva inclined her head in thanks and said, "That's very kind of you, Mr. Reyes."

"Carl," he corrected her fondly.

With a kiss on Brandon's cheek and a quick hug from the side that wouldn't impede too much with his meal, Teva slipped out the door with her rolling bag.

* * *

"She'll come back, mijo," Mrs. Reyes said softly as the door clicked shut.

Brandon hadn't realized he was probably doing that thing again where he advertised his feelings as clear as day. He hoped it was just because he was with people who were friends, people he trusted, and not because he had somehow lost his ability to blend, to con, to lie as easily as he could draw a breath of air. That ability was what had gotten him through as a 'runner, amongst other things, and definitely saved his ass more times than his bullets had. It would be a shame to have lost that on top of having had his sight taken from him.

Maybe he was just _that_ sad to hear the wheels of that bag rolling away on the trail of Teva's footsteps. The last time she'd walked away dragging luggage behind her, he hadn't seen her in a few months, even if a little over a month of that had gone by without his knowledge. She had taken a piece of him with her then, leaving behind a gaping hole that only filled again with her return. He didn't think he could handle having to say goodbye like that again.

"I know," he finally answered softly, speaking it as a truth.

She wasn't leaving. She was just going back his place for a bit.

_His _place...which was left in a total mess, he just realized. He hadn't picked up his paintings, or even put away his supplies, for that matter. Even with the lids on, some of those paints would probably be dried up by now, not that it mattered. He wouldn't be needing them for a while anyway. He'd already warned her about the fridge, but there was some dirty laundry in his hamper he hadn't gotten a chance to tend to, and some of the things he'd been wearing as disguises were just sort of tossed around his bedroom in his haste to get ready in the mornings. The journals were lying around here and there throughout the house, open to various pages that were serving as motivation to go after Lonnie until the monster was dead. Some other things he never even unpacked from his bag when he'd fled the apartment, like the box of horrible memories he couldn't throw away, and even some of his weapons were sitting around in the living room. The box of good memories was sitting up on his dresser with Nate's ring tucked safely inside, and then there was-

"Oh my god," he spat out, then slapped his hand to his forehead.

"What is wrong, mijo?" Mrs. Reyes asked, alarmed.

Brandon started laughing. "Nothing, I just, I had gotten us a gift a while back and she's going to see it. It was...supposed to be a surprise."

Tata chuckled at that. "Well, then whatever it is, I'm sure she'll still be surprised to see it."

"You don't even know," Brandon said as he shook his head, and kept slipping into little snicker fits as he finished his potatoes. He figured he could probably still play with that one even without his sight. Edible body paint was really more about the clean-up side of things than the actual artwork anyway, and his tongue definitely worked just fine.

He held onto that thought well after he'd finished his lunch and slid off into dreamland, taking him away to where his subconscious vision could fill his world with color.

* * *

The ride on the metro seemed interminably long to Teva, and by the time the train stopped at the closest station by Bran's safe house, she was itching for a walk to burn off some energy. The two block trek wasn't very long, but it did help get rid of some of that jittery, itchy feeling. Maybe before she hopped in the shower, she'd spend some time working out.

Those plans were trashed after Teva opened the door to the safe house, much like the safe house itself was.

Now let's get some things clear. Teva wasn't Miss Suzy-fucking-Homemaker. She did not enjoy cleaning in the least. Basically, she'd obsessively organized her apartment when she moved in, and had merely maintained the organization. It was a simple matter of upkeep after that. Wash the dishes, wash clothes, make sure the floors were cleaned every once in awhile...that sort of thing.

This was... This was beyond "simple upkeep." The place needed an all-out overhaul.

Teva prepared to tie on her metaphorical cleaning bandanna and go to war on Ghost's safe house. They'd see who won.

It was during her manic cleaning that she found the little containers of edible body paint mixed up with Brandon's actual paints. Teva read the label, laughed to herself, and then got a little misty eyed because now he couldn't paint little shapes on her body with the same kind of thoughtful whimsy that he had on his papers. That didn't mean they couldn't make use of it at all. It just wouldn't have the same premeditated artistry that Brandon's artwork did.

The paintings wound up in a careful stack on the writing desk on the far side of the living room, the paints acting like paperweights holding them down. The body paint was placed in the messy bedroom on top of the dresser.

All of the clothes were bagged up, and taken to the laundromat, and while they went through their cycles, Teva ran back to the apartment and cleaned out the kitchen of spoiled food.

Finally, when the clothes were dried and put away, and it seemed there was nothing left to do, she stepped under the shower spray for a quick scrub down, and collapsed on the bed for a nap.

She'd have to pick up groceries tomorrow, because there was no way she was getting it done before she needed to get back to the clinic.

It seemed like only a moment, but it was in fact forty minutes later when the alarm on her comm went off, and Teva's eyes popped open once more. Clothes were yanked on, different from what she was wearing earlier, not that Brandon would care what she was wearing but there was something counter-productive about putting on dirty clothes after a shower that she just couldn't abide by, and the safe house security measures were reset once Teva exited the building.

She arrived as Mr. and Mrs. Reyes were saying their goodbyes, and as the three of them crossed paths there were a few hellos, and Adelle saying, "They should be here with his dinner in ten or fifteen minutos."

"Gracias, Mrs. Reyes. Have a good evening, both of you," Teva smiled, and then went to say a proper hello to her boyfriend.

Brandon was still feeling kind of groggy when the Reyeses said their goodbyes after Darlene came in to wake him up in preparation for dinner and to run her routine checks. She was in the middle of drawing blood - a precautionary step to test for abnormalities before his second round of the treatment in the morning - when he was vaguely aware of someone else coming into the room.

"Hey, baby," Teva's voice greeted. "Darlene. You just getting back on shift?"

"Yep," the nurse answered as she pulled the needle out and made Bran hold the cotton ball to his arm for a second before she taped it in place. "Okay. All done here. I'm just going to run this down to the lab, then I'll be back with your dinner. I think maybe Doc's getting bold and letting you have beef gravy instead of chicken on your potatoes tonight."

He smiled at that. "Maybe a little _less_ gravy this time so it's more potato and less mush?" he asked as he absently held his hand out to the side in search of Teva's, who complied almost immediately.

"Sorry, Bran, mush is kind of still your whole diet plan. If you do good this week, I'm sure by next week you'll be on something more solid. Marc down in the kitchen makes some killer mac 'n cheese. That's typically the next step up."

"Looking forward to it," Brandon answered, then waited for the nurse to be gone before turning his attention back to his girlfriend. "Sorry about the mess. I didn't remember-" He shook his head and corrected his statement to sound less 'damaged from a bat and coma' and more innocently normal. "I didn't think about it. I wasn't actually at the house all that much to worry about keeping it tidy. I had...priorities."

"I understand," Teva replied soothingly as she perched her rear on the edge of the mattress. She put her lips on Brandon's briefly, then pulled back again to say, "But you owe me. I just went all Commando Clean on the place. I even did your laundry." She fake-gasped, and flailed in a parody of a heart attack.

"What are you-?" Bran started.

"Shh," she hissed, "I'm having an exaggerated death scene over here."

He laughed, and felt until he found the top of her head. "Strange Teva," Brandon joked, patting her.

"Mm," Teva shrugged nonchalantly, scooting a little closer. "I don't really feel strange; I think everybody else is strange, and I'm the only one who's normal because I've recognized there is no such thing as normalcy. That happy, perfect medium doesn't exist."

"That's probably good," Brandon answered, still smiling, "because I think _we_ are about as far from 'normal' as we can possibly get right now." He found her nose and placed a little kiss on the tip of it. "And thanks for taking care of everything for me."

"Oh, don't think that was free labor," Teva countered. "You _owe_ me."

"I'll take you out to fancy dinner once I'm out of my little prison here," he promised, which brought back the memory of him and V at Cardigan's, which in turn triggered his blurt function. "I took the diner girl out on a date."

Teva pulled back from him slightly. "What?"

"No, not, not a _date_ date, just a dinner date. That I owed her. It was for that time when Razz brought the waffles to our door. That was the payment for the favor - a dinner at Cardigan's. I took her before I went after Lonnie, trying to tie up loose ends and everything before I left to come find you. We just talked as friends, and I probably talked about you enough to bore her, but she seemed kinda happy that I found someone, so it was okay. I just thought you should know...in case you went down there or something and got the wrong idea from someone. That's okay, right? Because you don't strike me as the type that gets super jealous over me hanging out with girl friends - girls that are friends, I mean, not _girlfriends,_ because that wouldn't be-"

He cut himself off with a frustrated groan and scrubbed his hands over his face. It wasn't like he didn't have an odd tendency with Teva to go on nervous rambles sometimes, but his fritzy filters were making this that much harder. If Darlene walked back in with dinner within the next two seconds to save his bumbling ass, it wouldn't be two seconds too soon. In fact, he was kind of praying for it.

Teva wasn't certain how to react to the news that Brandon had gone out on a date, even if it was just a friend-date, with some girl while she'd been pining away for him in New Orleans. Her first response was born of pure possessiveness, the kind that developed over a lifetime of being forced to share everything with a sibling. _Mine; he's mine; it's mine; do not touch; a hex on the bitch that covets my man._

Immediately following that was a huge deluge of guilt. He'd said it was just between friends. Getting all weird about it wasn't fair. She was allowed to see her friends, so Brandon should be allowed to see his. Plus, even if something had happened, it wasn't like she had much ground to stand on. Teva was reminded viscerally of the feeling of Red's hands on her skin, soothing some of the ache from losing Brandon...or at least _thinking_ she'd lost Brandon.

Teva bit her lip, then blurted out, "No, no, it's totally cool. I mean, you're allowed to see your friends, male, female, or somewhere in between. I have male friends, and I wouldn't like it if you got all jealous because I wanted to hang out with them. So yeah, same thing applies."

Darlene chose that moment to show up with Brandon's dinner tray. She beamed at the both of them and said to Teva, "You know the drill."

Patting her boyfriend's hand, Teva stood up, and slithered off to the little table, plopping into one of the chairs. Brandon seemed to be concentrating awfully hard on getting his tray set up, then Darlene let him know where everything was on the tray. After the nurse had left the room again, she hesitantly volunteered some of what she'd been thinking in the interim, "Speaking of friends..."

Brandon paused.

Teva lost her courage. "Was there anyone you wanted to get in contact with besides the Reyeses? Like diner girl or whatever?"

Brandon thought about that for a long minute, maybe a little too long, but he honestly couldn't decide. He had told V he'd be leaving as soon as his business was done, so as far as she and the rest of the cafe knew, he had probably already left to track down his new lady love in whatever part of the country she lived in - information he didn't want to divulge with Gabe still after him. Letting people continue to believe that story would certainly make life a lot easier, not having to deal with explaining things or putting up with people pitying him. Then again, if he was going to be stuck in town for a while even after he'd fled the confines of the clinic, he might want to clue some folks in on what had gone down. It'd be kind of awkward for everyone involved if he just ran into someone on the street and was like, "Oh, hey! Great to see you! Or not, because I'm blind now, so I can't actually see shit. But, oh well, life goes on, right?"

Yeah, that would be weird. Of course, he wouldn't have to really worry about that at all if...

"I don't know," he finally answered. "That depends on a couple things, I guess, like if you think you might run into anyone I know. They'll probably ask questions if you do, so I guess it'd be okay to clue them in if that happened. Otherwise, anyone I care about probably already thinks I ran off to be with you. That _was_ the original plan, right? I mean, it's okay if you changed your mind, but I was thinking I wouldn't mind starting over somewhere else, maybe get to see where _you_ live." He winced at that. "I guess 'maybe' would be the operative word there, huh? You know what I meant, anyway. Is that...still an option? Going home with you?"

He picked idly at his potato mush, trying not to dwell too much on her answer. She'd stay with him either way, that much was sure, so he wasn't concerned about that. Now that he couldn't see though, he almost preferred to leave the city. There was nothing left for him there except a little old couple and a bunch of acquaintances who wouldn't know how to deal with his disability. It'd be better to go somewhere new, somewhere where nobody had ever even seen his face except those few people who he'd gone on a certain 'run with. A couple of familiar, friendly faces - _voices_ - he could deal with, but the thought of all the people he could run into at any particular time in LA...it wasn't something he wanted to mess with. Plus, it wasn't like he really had a home, anyway. He had a safe house hidden inside a dilapidated building, sitting above the shambles of an ancient little shop in an area of town that wasn't even that great, a place where the windows were rigged up so they wouldn't even let any natural light in. It wasn't a home. It was a pit stop, and he wanted to move on.

"Of course, I still want you to come to New Orleans with me," Teva replied. She raised a hand to her mouth, a troubled expression painted clearly on her face. There was a terrible black snake coiling in the pit of her stomach. She'd managed to suppress it for days, what was slowly sinking in like a lead weight to the bottom of a lake; that while she had been fucking Red, Brandon had been waiting for her to come back, to be his strength and help him get through this latest trial.

Teva tasted blood, that distinctly bitter, slightly metallic taste on her tongue, and pulled her finger out of her mouth with surprise. The skin next to her middle finger was saturated with saliva, and ragged, ripped open by her own insistent teeth.

She had to tell him. It wasn't fair not to tell him. If their situations were reversed, she would want to know, would rather know than be in the dark about it.

"I-" Teva hesitated, then sucked loudly on the large drop of red bubbling up next to her nail, sliding into the cracks when its volume grew too great for the meniscus. "I have to tell you something," she blurted out, "But...but please don't hate me." She swallowed hard against the urge to start crying. It wasn't her right to cry.

_Hate her?_ Brandon thought as he slowly set down his spoon, a knot already twisting in his gut. He could hear it in her voice, that strained tone like she was on the verge of tears. She spoke with that same fear that had clamped like a vice around his chest when he'd been so sure that she wouldn't come, that she wouldn't forgive him for making her think he'd killed himself, for making her mourn over him only to find out he was still alive. What could she have possibly done that would be as bad as that? That she'd really believe he would hate her for?

Maybe she hadn't done anything just yet. Maybe her last claim that she wanted him to go home with her had been too much. Maybe she couldn't really do this, after all, and it was finally sinking in that all of this was just too much to handle.

Doing his best to keep his voice very steady, he turned his head slightly in her direction, but kept his eyes glued towards the floor. When he spoke, it came out quiet but firm.

"Teva, you've done more for me than a lot of people would do for their own family, and you started doing it when you didn't even know me. There are no words in any human language anywhere that I could use to tell you how much that means to me, how much _you_ mean to me. There is nothing - _nothing_ - you could do that would ever make me hate you. Ever. So if you can't...do this, I won't even be mad. It's a lot of responsibility, more than most people would want to deal with. I understand, okay? Stay as long as you want, and when it gets to be too much, you can go home. No guilt. I'll figure it out."

"It's not this," she shot back urgently, needing him to believe that. "Bran, it doesn't have anything to do with _this_." Unthinkingly, Teva waved her hand around wildly, encompassing him and the room and it seemed the clinic at large.

Dammit. She needed to stop doing that. Her gestures were lost on him now.

Her voice was harsh when she told him, "I did...something bad...when I thought you were dead. I mean, I didn't think it was bad at the time, but now that I know you're not really dead, it _is_ bad. I just don't know how tell you because this isn't... I know it's not a good time, but will it ever be a good time, you know?No," Teva shook her head, mumbling to herself, "You don't know because I'm talking in fucking circles."

There was more blood in her mouth. She hadn't realized she'd been chewing on her fingers again.

Finally, she sighed, and gathered every ounce of courage and directness that she could. "I slept with somebody else." After barely a pause, Teva blurted out hurriedly, "But it didn't mean anything, it was just...I can't even explain what a bad spot I was in, and I needed somebody to be nice to me, you know? And it was...it just..._happened_."

There was a strange lightness filling up her chest, and she supposed despite feeling shitty, poised on the edge of her seat waiting for Brandon to react, dreading what he was going to say or not say, and kind of wishing he would hate her for it because she did, that she also felt relief. It was out now in the open. Of course, Teva hadn't exactly volunteered _the name_ of the man she'd slept with. Brandon knew about her history with Red. He might be threatened or feel _something_ about that particular detail.

The silence was killing her. Say something, she begged in her mind.

Teva's confession hit Brandon like a punch to the face, and for a moment he did feel a ball of hot red anger growing in his stomach - not hatred, never hatred, but a bitter sense of betrayal that left such a strong taste on his tongue that he was almost nauseous.

But then a thought struck him. Betrayal against who? Him? He was dead. He had told her he might kill himself and then disappeared for over a month. He _was_ dead, at least to her, and as much as he wanted to yell at her for it, what could he say? _What the fuck, Teva?! You didn't believe me when I told you Death didn't want me? I repeated that like a thousand times! I died and came back almost as many! Why couldn't you believe me?!_

Because it was stupid. Anyone who genuinely believed that was off their rocker. Death would come for him eventually, had even taken a little sample this time just to make sure Brandon knew how close he was, so it would have been completely idiotic and unhealthy for Teva to think that he was still alive after all that time. What was he expecting her to do? Just keep living alone without anyone to comfort her? That wouldn't have been fair.

No, he couldn't be mad at her. The only person he could blame was Gabe; well, Gabe and the people he had once thought of as quasi-friends.

"Okay," he said in almost a whisper, nodding his head. "It's okay. I'm not...I'm not..._Fuck!_"

He swept his arm against the tray of food and flung it off the side of the bed where she wasn't standing, feeling just the tiniest bit of satisfaction when he heard it hit the wall before clattering to the floor. He _was_ mad. He was fucking _pissed_, but not at her. This was beyond her, beyond Gabe, beyond everyone. He was mad at the world in general.

He lost that thin little veil of control he'd held over his anger pretty much since he had first found out that he couldn't see.

"This is so...fucking..._fuck!_ You know what; I must've been a pretty shitty person in a past life or something to deserve all this, this _shit!_ And you know damn well what I mean! You read the fucking journals! What did I do, huh? What was it that I did that sent me to this fucking Hell? It wasn't bad enough to kill my parents, plant me with a psycho freak of an uncle, have my best friend shoot himself in the fucking head, trigger a mutant bio-weapon in my brain waking up that goddamn demon - and it's there, I know it's there because I don't feel a single goddamn shred of guilt or disgust over what I did to Lonnie, and I _should_, because it was disgusting, but all I can do when I think about it is smile - wouldn't let me kill myself when I wanted to, turned me into an addict who almost died coming down off the fucking drugs, sent me this great girl just to throw a curveball at me so I had to send her away, let me kill Lonnie so I thought it'd be over, all just to make sure I got my skull caved in with a fucking baseball bat! 'Hey! Wouldn't it be funny to put Brandon in a coma for a month, wake him up as helpless as a day-old kitten for god-knows-how-long, and then blind him on top of that? Oh, and guess what would just be the topper on the sundae? Let's make him dead _just_ long enough for his girlfriend to go fuck some other guy! That'll be fun! Let's all just...just shit on Brandon. See how much he can take before he...before he...'"

His violence, instead of scaring her, saddened her.

It was easy to blame someone, _something_ else for the things that went wrong in the world, for life's unfairness. Gods, Fates, Karma... All were just excuses, just a way of making themselves feel better. Truthfully, Teva thought that if there were really deities, like Cat and whoever else was out there, then they were mostly indifferent to the existence of metahumanity. They had better things to occupy themselves with. If they gave a shit at all, it was only out of self-interest and a capricious sense of curiosity.

The excuse 'god hates me' had never sat well with her for that reason. But how could she explain to Brandon, a man who spoke of Death, but had never looked a death deity in the face, never journeyed or been taken to the metaplanes, never stared into the eyes of a spirit and known that his life and his death, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to an ephemeral, immortal creature without his having experienced that divine indifference for himself?

Brandon sniffled, losing his steam. It took a second before he could speak again, and the words came out in that same semblance of soft, false control that he had started with initially. "And I can't even be mad about it because I. was. dead. I can't be mad at you for that, for doing what you needed to so you could move on, not even a little bit. I just...what the fuck did I do? When does it _stop?_ When do I get to just be _happy_?"

Teva had started crying silently again-she'd cried more since meeting Brandon than she had in her entire life-catching the droplets with her fingers and wiping them off on her shorts. Shit, she shouldn't have said anything. This, watching him break down, but not at her, at the unfairness of life itself, hurt worse than keeping the secret.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I never would have if I had...known. Don't take this on yourself. It's not...Brandon, I don't believe in gods or fate or karma. Bad things happen, and they're indiscriminate. We just have to find our happiness where we can."

Collecting the latest round of salty tears, she brushed her fingers against her shorts again, and clasped her knees with her hands. She wanted to go to him, to touch him both for comfort and just to let him know she was there, but she didn't know if he'd want that right now.

A knock came on the door followed by Darlene's voice. "Is everything okay in there? The readouts are a little high. I don't want to walk in on anything...private though."

"Fuck," Brandon whispered, letting his head fall back against the pillow in agitation."I'm fine!" he snapped, then said much quieter, "Fucking fine, or I _would_ be if I was allowed to _feel_ anything without a goddamn alarm going off."

There was a second of what must have been hesitation before the nurse called out again. "Are you sure?"

Teva answered before he could, which was probably good because he was in the middle of one of his snapping-off-heads moods at the moment. "We're fine, Darlene."

"...Okay, well, I'm going to come back and check in a little bit anyway. Just to be sure. So heads up."

"Okay," Teva quietly answered, putting an end to the conversation.

Brandon lay there stewing in silence after that, just trying to focus on slowing down his heart rate so the damn machine would quit giving away his emotions to the whole fucking medical staff. Wanting to roll over onto his side so he could curl into himself a little more, he forgot about the tray and bumped it while he moved, pissing him off all over again. He shoved it aside with one hand, intending on just making the whole table roll back, but the angle and amount of force he put into the push started tipping the whole thing over. Startled reflexes had him sitting up and reaching for it again, actually managing to catch the thing before it could fall over, but not within enough time to keep his tablet from sliding off and hitting the ground. It didn't sound like anything broke, but he wouldn't really know until he turned the thing on.

Sighing, he made sure the table was settled before once again laying down, turning himself to the side facing where Teva was, or had been sitting, at least. He didn't know if she'd moved while he was possibly destroying his new journal.

"I want to go home," he said sadly, and reached out an arm to where he thought she might be. Maybe if she just lay with him for a little bit, the two of them curled up on their sides, fitting together like two perfect puzzle pieces, he could just pretend for a little bit that that's exactly where he was.

She came on silent steps, scooping up the tablet off the floor and setting it on top of the tray table. Without a word, Teva crawled onto the bed with Brandon, silently wrapping herself around him as much as she could, her arm tight over his side, clinging to his back. She snugged her nose against his neck, breathing in his scent where it wasn't muddled up with the smell of the scrubs, the food on the floor, and the overpowering clinic stench of antiseptic.

* * *

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

Coming Home

Chapter Four

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Notes: This chapter is a little shorter because it leads into a love scene. I decided to give the love scene its own chapter since a) it was running a little long and b) that way the prudes can skip it if they want to. However, I will say this: it is a touching scene in that it's really the first time that our heroes are able to reconnect in private, and frankly, as far as love scenes go, I've read and written much dirtier than this one.

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

With no way to tell time Brandon didn't know how long he and Teva held each other tightly like they were doing, how long it took before he finally just breathed out all his frustration over his situation, his anger at an unfair world, and focused instead on breathing in her presence, her calm that wrapped around him with her embrace.

"Sorry," he murmured against the top of her head. "Didn't have my usual mirror to send my fist through. I had to improvise."

"It's okay," she answered back quietly.

He ran his fingers through her hair, stirring up the smell of her shampoo, his other hand squeezing around her waist in a tighter hug for a second. As he relaxed his arm, his hand caught up beneath the bottom of her shirt a little, and he could just feel the line of scars on her back, the tally marks left by her personal demon. They were her reminder to be careful, less naive, to lay with men who wouldn't make such marks again. Whoever she had been with while Brandon was dead wouldn't have left scars, wouldn't have harmed her; she would've made sure of it.

Wanting to think of something else, the feel of those slightly raised tally marks made him realize there was still a lot they hadn't told each other while they'd been apart.

"How did you do it?" he asked softly without a doubt in his mind that she had, and brushed his fingers along the scars again. "How'd you kill your demon?"

"I almost didn't," Teva confessed quietly. "I got all the way there, and I'd been so goddamn _angry_ that it was like fuel. Then I was looking at him, at this man that I barely remembered, and he was so _pathetic_." Her hissed words bounced against Brandon's skin, sending her own hot breath back at her, like a dragon.

"Do you know what I mean? He was just some guy who hadn't been strong enough to overcome his circumstances. Instead he'd let them twist him into some shadow of himself, of who he could have been, and I wasn't angry _for me_ anymore," she sighed as she relived the moment, the look on his face, the smell of piss and fear on the air. "I was angry for everybody else, for Nell Parsons, the first girl brave enough to go to the authorities, lucky number thirteen; for all the other girls who hadn't, numbers one through three, five through twelve-_thirteen_; thirteen girls, doesn't that just make you ill?; but I was also angry at the people who'd victimized _him_, who had turned him into this spineless waste of a person powered by hatred and fear."

"And," Teva swallowed, "I was angry at him for not fighting harder. For surrendering."

After a moment, she admitted quietly, almost like she was afraid to say it, "I almost walked away. Seeing him for who he was, a part of me pitied him, and I almost left him alone. But as I was contemplating it, I realized that he'd never stop. He couldn't, or wouldn't. Whichever it was, that was the basic truth. If I turned my back on him, there would be more girls like me, like Nell Parsons, and I couldn't...couldn't do that to them."

"I was going to torture him to death. That was my plan when I went there," she told Brandon in a whisper. "Instead, I put him a tub of acid, and shot him in the head. It was...clean, I guess."

Snorting rudely, Teva drawled sardonically, "Though the humaneness is still in question. He was alive at first when I put him in there. Alive, and paralyzed, and I'll admit that I enjoyed his pain, his fear, his inability to scream or to fight. I thought it was fitting. He'd paralyzed me; I did the same to him. Then as the acid was eating away his skin and muscle, I saw a flash of the child he must have been once, and I thought 'I can't do this,' so I shot him."

The silence hung between them. Her palm slid up Brandon's back, almost like she was trying to press him closer to her or her to him, maybe. "I told you I wasn't a very good person," Teva said, her voice low and rough.

"And you?" she asked abruptly. "How did..." She hesitated to say 'your uncle.' The man wasn't any real kind of family to Bran or Nate. By blood, yes, but by action, definitely not. He'd been trusted to care for them. The man had betrayed that trust and abused them instead. "How did the thing with Lonnie go?"

They were interrupted once again with a knock on the door. This time Darlene pushed in without asking permission, uttering an apology. Brandon heard her footsteps as she came across the room to check his machines, then cringed in anticipation of what was coming as she stopped.

"Brandon Wilson!" the nurse managed to somehow scream out in an impressively quiet manner. "We do _not_ throw our food around. If you weren't stuck in that bed I'd make you clean this up yourself."

He ducked his head against Teva's for a second. "Sorry, Darlene."

"Can't believe I have to do this," she grumbled, "but you are grounded. No more dessert for the next two days. I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, not daring to argue with her.

She apparently wasn't impressed. "Don't _ma'am_ me either; I'm not that much older than you."

He wisely stayed quiet that time as Darlene went to one of the cupboards for cleaning supplies and dealt with his mess. Once she was done, she gave them a warning that visiting hours were over in an hour, and left the room without another word.

"I think she's mad at you," Teva whispered oh-so-helpfully.

He bit his lip a little at that. "I think you're right." They both laughed lightly, breaking the previous tension in the air, before Brandon sucked in a deep breath. "How'd that thing with Lonnie go? Like I said, he was right about there being a monster inside me, just a different kind than he thought. I was...not a good person. At all."

He took his time telling her about his plan, not leaving out any details. He told her about how he tracked his uncle down, about the sex ring, the boy he saved, the house too close to the one he'd grown up in, the nightmares that were brought back, the trids, about appearing as the ghosts (his own _and_ Nate's), torturing the man until he was scared and weak, herding him out to the park, and then those final moments where Brandon mutilated the tools of his torment with the sliver gun before shredding Lonnie's head. Partway through his re-telling, he realized he was smiling, feeling the pleasure rising up again at having brought his demon to its knees and then obliterating it.

Teva had taken pity. Brandon had not. His inner darkness thrived on the torture, the fear, the violence he'd inflicted on his uncle, and he could only hope that it was reserved only for Lonnie. Taking that level of joy from such evil vengeance could be dangerous if left unchecked, and as much as he liked it, he prayed that the inner monster wouldn't crave more.

Losing his smile, he also told her how when it was over he put that gun to his head, how he almost really did pull the trigger, but changed his mind. Thinking of _Teva_ had helped change his mind, and gave him the drive to just get it done so he could go back to her.

But then he ran into Gabe. He was on a roll then, so just kept right on going. He told her how he tried to run, then tried to fight, and about the bat, and waking up in the clinic completely clueless about the fact that he'd been asleep for over a month. He told her about that first frightening moment when he realized he couldn't see, and how he had tried to be a good sport about it until he hadn't been able to walk. He ended with telling her about how the treatments were supposed to work, how that first injection had hurt so bad, but he couldn't take the numbing agent because of the narcotic effects. That thought led him to his next request.

"I know you don't like getting up early," he said after a short pause, "but maybe you could come in time for my treatment tomorrow? I think I just about crushed Tata's hand last time, and I'm sure my grip's a little stronger now than it was a week ago."

Listening quietly to Brandon's tale, Teva could admit to herself that she didn't feel the horror she ought to at his calm, deliberate retelling, or even the slight smile that slowly grew on his face. He'd needed the satisfaction, had needed to destroy the monster that had taken his life in a metaphorical sense, and his cousin's in a more literal one.

Then... "Yes, of course, I'll come. You can squeeze the hell out of my hand. What time is it?" she responded quickly.

"Nine o' clock," Brandon answered.

"Then I'll be there," Teva smiled, and squeezed his middle the slightest bit.

After a beat of silence, she asked quietly, "Do you know why I don't just kill first? Why I exhaust my non-lethal options first?"

"Hm?"

"Because killing comes easy for me," she admitted softly. "I don't feel anything when I do it. I never have. I just go to this place where everything is dark and numb, and I know that if I wanted to, I could stay there all the time. But I've seen people who choose to live like that; they're monsters, and I despise them. I don't wanna be like that. But sometimes it's hard, because I was trained to kill first, to end a fight as quickly and efficiently as possible, so I have to remind myself why I don't want to do that. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Brandon was silent, so Teva continued, spelling it out for him. "We all have the potential to be monsters, but there's a choice there. Bran, you say you enjoyed your uncle's death, and that's okay because I think you needed it. That doesn't mean I think you'll suddenly crave it, and do it to someone else. We impose limits on ourselves, control our impulses."

"And thank you," she concluded, pressing her lips chastely against his neck, "For changing your mind, and not pulling the trigger. I kind of like you a lot, and I'm glad you're alive."

Brandon smiled and gave her another of his bone-crushing hugs, or at least the best he could do with his current strength. It still managed to squish the air out of her lungs in a little puff against his neck though, so that was good enough for him.

"I kind of like you a lot too," he said, and grinned as he added, "my crazy little angel."

He felt her lips pull into a smile, and he wondered at the fact that she didn't try to argue it that time. It sort of amused him more, at the thought that maybe she'd just accepted her role - an angel who just admitted that killing meant nothing to her, assigned to watch over a man with demon blood flowing through his veins who, at least at the moment, was almost as harmless as a newborn baby.

"What's so funny?" Teva asked, drawing attention to the fact that he'd been chuckling softly without even really realizing it.

"Oh, I was just thinking that I don't think me killing anyone else is going to be a problem. I couldn't even step on a bug unless someone told me exactly where to put my foot, and that's not even considering the fact that I can't stand up on my own right now. Yeah, that monster's going to be in hibernation for a while."

For a third time that evening they were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Time's up," Darlene informed them quickly, then slipped away again so they could say their goodbyes. Brandon groaned at that, not wanting to let her go, but rules were rules. He responded in equal fervor to the sudden parting kiss that Teva was planting on his lips before she slipped off the side of the bed.

"Nine o'clock?" he asked, also letting the question serve as a reminder.

"Nine o'clock," she agreed. "I'll be here."

He nodded, and as he heard the door pull open he offered out an "I love you" instead of a goodbye.

"I love you too," she answered, and was gone.

Brandon sighed as he rolled onto his back, his head too full of varying emotions to sleep just yet. Thinking he'd serve his time a little better in trying to get it out of his system instead of dwelling on things, he reached for his tablet and prayed that it would turn on. Much to his relief, it did, so he played around with the settings on it until he was satisfied with the customization, then wrote his first actual journal entry since before he began his nonstop assault on Lonnie.

He passed out with the automated voice that now sounded remarkably like Nate's reading the words back to him, just like his cousin had done when they were kids. He had had a lot to say.

* * *

Morning brought with it the smell of soycaf, which Teva had set to brew promptly at seven, and after taking the time to down two cups, she headed for the shower. Another hot summer day meant another pair of tiny shorts, and a thin, pale yellow tank top with a band logo scrawled across it over a more solid white one. She still wore her chucks, and had her shuriken in the bottom of her bag, a patchwork affair in bright colors, as well as a knife in her front pocket.

With her hair still wet, and the remaining pot of soycaf poured into a giant travel mug, Teva headed for the clinic.

The subway ride there went quickly, and she waved at the Reyeses as she walked in the room. "Good morning, baby!" she sang, jittery and forcibly cheerful from caffeine overload. Skipping over to Brandon's bed, Teva nuzzled his hair and kissed his nose affectionately. "It's the morning, I still have caffeine," she kept singing, mostly to herself, and dancing with quick, little hip-swishes. "I love caffeine, and big giant mugs...cha, cha, cha!" Teva struck a dramatic pose at the end of her song, eliciting applause and laughter from the Reyeses.

Brandon laughed and shook his head at her antics, but couldn't quite stop that little bit of hurt that always crept in when he felt like he wasn't fully in the loop. So much of human communication was enacted through body movement, or a look in the eyes, a tiny twitch of the lips, all little bits and pieces of the message that most people didn't realize they were displaying, and probably even less realized they were reading. All he had now were the words and the tone of voice, maybe the sound of feet moving, and a touch if he was lucky. It made him wonder just how much of the real conversation he was missing.

Forcing away the coming melancholy (he had already had his outburst the night before, after all, so it was time to buck up and soldier on once again), he planted a genuine smile on his face as he greeted her back.

"Hey, angel. Would it be inappropriate for the ex-drug addict to comment on how cute his girlfriend is when she's high on caffeine?"

A familiar, disapproving throat clearing filled the air before Dr. Peters spoke. "I would try to say something along the lines of how caffeine addiction can be just as serious and unhealthy as a dependency on any other drug, but I fear the comment will only earn me another charming glare."

Brandon tried and failed to bite back a chortle. "I bet you ten nuyen you're already getting one."

"And I would lose that bet," Peters answered with a chuckle of his own. "How are we feeling today, Brandon? Ready for round two?"

Bran shrugged in response. "At least I know what to expect this time...unless this is, what did you call it? The bee sting round?"

"Bee sting round?" Teva asked. "What's that mean?"

"Like the second time you get stung by a bee," Brandon explained, figuring the doc probably wouldn't. It occurred to him that he should probably sign paperwork or something that would grant permission for the medical staff to tell her and the Reyeses whatever they wanted to know. They pretty much _were_ his only family, after all.

He made a mental note to take care of that once his treatment was over, and continued his own version of a medical information breakdown. "Tell me if I say something wrong, Doc, because honestly the first time you went through all this stuff with me I was still kind of out of it. Anyway, I guess it's that whole 'if you're going to be allergic to bees, you don't find out until the second sting' sort of thing. The first time sends up the warning flags, the second time is the actual attack. Right?"

"In a sense, yes," Peters confirmed. "We'll be monitoring you a little more closely throughout the day in case you have any sort of reaction that indicates your body is rejecting the treatment. Otherwise everything will proceed as per your normal routine. Are you opting out of the pain suppressors again today?"

"You know I have to," Brandon answered, appreciative of the ease with which the doctor moved on past the possible symptoms of treatment rejection. He couldn't remember them very well, but he did know enough that he didn't really want to think about it. "Teva will be sitting in as my hand-holder today."

"Thank goodness," Mr. Reyes said jokingly from his chair. "I was concerned my old bones would not be able to handle a second crushing."

Brandon laughed at that and apologized again while the doctor did some final checks on the monitors before going about the process of unhooking him.

"Are we ready?" Peters asked once he was through.

"Let's get it over with," Brandon replied, and dutifully sat up on the edge of the bed so that someone could help him slide down into the chair, doing his best to keep his mind focused on anything _but_ the thought of this not working out. If it didn't, he'd probably never be privy to a full conversation ever again.

Brandon tried not to tense up as Peters and the medical staff got him situated on the strange table.

_Should call it the Torture Table,_ he thought with an inward wince. That probably wasn't helping matters any.

The thing wasn't actually that uncomfortable in itself. It was essentially like one of the massage tables that had a doughnut-shaped headrest so he could lie on his stomach without worrying about flattening his nose or suffocating himself in a pillow. There was also a little padded shelf below that so he had a place to fold his arms (or use as a death grip with one hand while trying not to do any actual damage to Teva's with the other). The thing that made the table more awkward was that it wasn't lying flat out; instead, it was tilted up at an angle in a way that made it where he wasn't anywhere near standing upright, but wasn't exactly in a horizontal enough position to just relax either. It made it easier for the staff to get him situated onto the thing and put his body at a better angle to insert the needle, but it also required strapping him in so he wouldn't slide off. The whole concept of being tied down on his stomach was almost more frightening to him than the knowledge that a sharp, intense pain was about to bite into the back of his head.

Even having personally killed Lonnie wasn't enough to wipe away _some_ fears.

"Brandon, we're going to keep you buckled in just a little longer following the injection this time, just to watch for that bee sting, okay?" Peters informed him as he secured the last strap.

_Great_, Brandon thought, his fingers already starting to tighten around the armrest. Not a half second later one of his hands was scooped up by Teva's, and he found himself gripping it in a premature death lock. He was making this worse on himself, he knew, but now that he knew what was coming, the anticipation of the pain and being trapped in an exposed position while having to deal with that pain was almost more than he could handle.

Under normal circumstances, Teva actually liked needles. She'd had a lot of different piercings over the years-ears, tongue, lip, nose, nipples, at one point she'd even had the corset piercing done, that is, vertical surface piercings on either side of her spine-and currently had her little anti-eye piercing. But this was not exactly the size of a piercing needle. The syringe, a larger caliber than normal so that they could inject as much of the serum in at once, came closer and closer to the back of Brandon's head.

Teva's hand tightened and loosened around his in a slow, steady pattern, giving him something to focus on. He found himself returning the gesture in the same pattern, keeping his mind locked onto that rhythm straight through the doctor's warning, then the countdown. Only when the needle sunk in did he lose control, his fingers clenching around hers in a reflexive response to pain. He hissed his breath in through teeth clamped tightly together and held it, the nails on his other hand digging into the padding on the armrest while the rest of his body shook slightly as every muscle tensed up.

'It's okay,' she wanted to say, but it was like she was sympathetically experiencing his pain. She was just as caught up in it, focusing on his desperate grip, and the agony in every line of his face and body, almost holding her breath.

It seemed to take forever for the full injection to be administered, and as the needle was withdrawn, Brandon let out his breath in a vocalized gasp. The next few breaths were taken haltingly before he swallowed hard, letting himself begin to slowly let the tension flow out of his body.

"You're okay, baby, you're okay," Teva said quietly, and he realized then that she was still maintaining that steady rhythm on his hand.

He made himself ease up on his grip before responding to her in a panted whisper. "Yeah...I'm okay," he confirmed, trying to put her at ease as well. It hadn't occurred to him before how scary it probably looked watching a doctor shove a needle contraption into the base of her boyfriend's skull.

_Contraption,_ he thought with a bitter smile. In his head he was already picturing it as some sort of giant drill gun looking thing. It was probably nothing more than a regular syringe needle, only slightly larger than the norm, nothing to be alarmed about.

Well, nothing except the fact that he was still expected to lay still for some unknown amount of time, strapped down on his stomach with a room full of people hovering over him, a few of whom he didn't think he knew. No big deal.

He may have forgotten about following Teva's pattern again in favor of going back to his solid fear-grip.

It took Teva a second but she finally figured out why the terror seemed to have returned full force, though she could see that the procedure was over: the table. Being strapped down on the table and _observed_.

"How long?" she asked the doctor quietly.

"Twenty minutes," he responded. "If you haven't had an allergic reaction in twenty minutes, Brandon, you're not going to. Then we'll move you back to your room."

When Brandon didn't seem to have heard, she squeezed his hand, and rubbed her thumb in a little circle over his skin. "Baby, did you hear? Twenty minutes?"

He finally replied, saying quietly, "I heard." The grip on her hand didn't slacken.

"So..." Teva knew she needed to distract him, otherwise he was going to start panicking, but wasn't sure how. Then it struck her, and she grinned a little. "So I redecorated my apartment. I bought plants and shit, which you know are hella expensive, but they're so pretty, I couldn't help myself. Then there's entirely new living room furniture, and I finally got the second bedroom turned into a gym, and my bedroom's all pretty and-dare I say it?-feminine..." She went into great detail describing everything from the color of the couch-"it's sage green; you know, green with a lot of white in it so it's super pale, and just a touch of blue to give it that gray-ish tinge; I like it, but Madden's torn between thinking it looks like throw up and the color of his mother's skin"-to the plants-"it's this potted tree thing, and the trunk kind of braids over itself; the top is all poofy with these waxy green leaves, and when it blooms there are these huge, hot pink flowers on it about the size of my hand"-to the new headboard in her bedroom-"I don't know why I let myself be convinced that I needed an antique headboard, but it's so pretty; carved from cherry wood, it has scenes from Hindu tradition; I guess in the past it would have been used as a marital bed"-and beyond.

Brandon closed his eyes even though he didn't need to, but human habit insisted that to be able to imagine the vivid pictures that Teva was painting for him, he needed to do so with his eyes shut. With no way to tell time, anyway, unless he literally counted the seconds in his head, he instead just listened intently to every last detail about her apartment, and almost couldn't wait to go see - _feel_ - for himself what it was like.

The doctor cleared his throat. "We've passed the twenty minute mark. Good job, Brandon. We'll transfer you back to your chair now."

That should've put him at ease, but then the feel of where the straps were located on his body suddenly became very noticeable to him, and with his brain going back to register just how long he'd been tied down like that, the edges of panic began to creep in all over again. There were going to be hands on him, hands of the people who had stood there watching him closely, people he didn't necessarily know, touching him in places that were too close to where Lonnie's hands had been.

"No!" he nearly shouted, then forced himself to calm down. _God, I thought I'd be over this!_

"Don't...please don't touch. Just Teva, please, no one touches me but Teva, just for now. I can't..."

Her hand squeezed his again in a reassuring manner before Peters spoke.

"Alright, Brandon. Just Teva, alright? She'll get the buckles undone and help you back in your chair, then we'll just get you back to your bed for a bit. I've got a light breakfast for you, then I believe Eric wants you back on the weights today. How's that sound?"

Brandon nodded the best he could while stuck in his current position. "That's, that's great. Thank you. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, son," the doc said. "We all have our quirks. The next treatments will be faster like that first one was, just in and out, so no need to worry about it in the future."

Brandon felt a wave of welcoming relief at that, then even more so as Teva let go of his hand, trailing her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder to the first strap so he'd know for sure it was her touching him instead of someone just posing as her, taking advantage of his inability to see.

"Just stay still for a little longer for me, okay?" she requested softly, to which he nodded again.

She worked quickly to free him, and as much as he tried to do as she told him, the second he was completely free he nearly fell as he pushed himself away from the table, just trying to get in a position where his backside wasn't so exposed. Teva seemed ready for that and caught him easily enough, turning him around so he was sitting in his chair - safe, protected, free to move around as much as his current position allowed him to - and kept a firm grip on his shoulder just so he knew she was there to back him up.

"Thank you, sorry," he said again softly, this time for her instead of the doctor.

"Like the doc said, no need to apologize," she assured him, and began to push him out of that awful room.

And that was that, the worst was over. The universe apparently didn't hate him enough to make his body reject the treatment, he didn't go into total panic on the table, and the next injection wouldn't even be for another two weeks. Now all he had left to focus on was getting through each day one at a time, increasing his strength, getting the hell out of the clinic, and praying that just maybe he was putting himself through the needle torture for good reason.

They went back to his room, where it was decided that they were going to leave Brandon in the chair for breakfast. He was strong enough to stay upright without assistance for some time, and even a passive use of his muscles would help him build up strength. So his chair was brought up to the table, and his meal set up in front of him.

Teva took the chair to Brandon's left, and Mrs. Reyes took the chair to the right. Carl, that is, Mr. Reyes, reseated himself in the recliner. He and his wife shared some fruit packed in their cold sack. As they were eating, Adelle asked, "Teva, did you already eat breakfast?"

Laughing sheepishly, she replied, "Ah, no, not yet. All the soycaf fills me up. I won't be hungry 'til around lunchtime."

Brandon shook his head, smiling wryly. "You're always hungry, Teva."

"Shut up," she cried in mock offense, playfully smacking his arm. "I am not."

"Angel," he caught her hand up in his, and pressed her knuckles to his lips, "You are. I'd offer to share some of my goop in a bowl, but I doubt you'd want it. If you want some food though, don't worry about going to get some." Smiling a little, he said, "I'll survive until you get back."

"Shut up," Teva said again, but this time it was quiet and warm with affection. She squeezed his hand, then withdrew back into her chair as Mattie came in smiling.

"Morning, everyone. Ready for breakfast, B?" the nurse asked as she swept in bearing a tray, and slid it on the table in front of him.

For having had such an intense morning, the rest of the day seemed to be shaping up pretty damn good for Brandon. His breakfast consisted of warmed apple mush that tasted more like pie filling than how applesauce normally tasted, and _that _made him pretty damn happy. The fact that he actually got to sit at the table instead of being shoved back in that bed made him about ten times happier than the food did. Mattie told him (rather shamelessly in front of everyone so that it once again brought an embarrassed flush to Brandon's cheeks) that if he wanted, they could let Teva take care of shower time instead of the nurses, and _that_ mental image definitely put a smile on his face despite the flush. Before Teva took off in search of something edible for herself, Tata casually slipped into some crazy native story about a crow stealing from a cat, and just hearing Teva's delighted laughter made him feel warm inside. Even after she left (with a kiss and a promise that she'd be back soon) he didn't feel that sad sense of loss that usually accompanied her departure. He was secure now, trustful of the idea that she really was there to stay.

PT was good that morning too. Following Eric's suggestion, Brandon only strove to reach that two-step goal again, not wanting to re-experience the disappointment of shooting for a bar that was a little too high just yet. Once he mastered the two, then he would move on to three, and so on and so forth until he crossed the proverbial finish line. His two steps that morning came out a little bit faster, a little bit smoother than they had the day before, and that was victory enough for him.

Eric pushed him a little harder on the weight machines, enough that Brandon had to roll up the sleeves on his sweatshirt so he wouldn't overheat. It felt great though, more like a real workout instead of the lighter exercises he'd been doing before (that hadn't at all _felt_ light at the time, but they were all drills that most children were even capable of doing). He got to use a new machine too, an odd sort of stationary bike thing that he had to pedal with his arms. Eric told him it would get his arm strength up even more, plus get him working on his cardio since they hadn't done much of that with the exception of his one pool visit. When Brandon's legs were a little more coordinated the troll informed him that he'd be doing the same drill on a normal bike machine as well.

Brandon and Eric talked a little longer after the session was over, the trainer laying out a more definite game plan for the therapy regime. That put Brandon at ease, knowing what the routine was going to be instead of having to wonder day to day what he'd be expected to do. There was apparently going to be a steady rotation of weights, cardio, stretching and working his joints to keep him limber, strengthening and building the muscle on his torso from back to front, workouts in the pool, the ever-present parallel bars, and resting days. The specifics of the exercises would change up as he regained more of his motor function, especially when he switched to being an outpatient (the sessions would be, as Eric joked, "boot camp tough" then), but that would still be a little ways in the future. For the time being, Brandon was just happy with having a more set schedule to work around.

Then?

Then there was shower time. Shower time where Mattie informed him and Teva that the staff would hold off on making Brandon's lunch until the two of them were back in the room. The Reyeses decided that would probably be a good time to say goodbye for the day, sort of in a way to wean Brandon off his need for them to be there all the time, to wean Mrs. Reyes off her strong motherly hen routine and get their lives back to normal, and to help slide Teva into the role of playing sole guardian.

Brandon and Teva were just happy to have that private time. In the shower. Where no one would disturb them.

As Teva shut the door to the bathroom behind her, Brandon wondered idly if Dr. Peters had approved of this 'form of exercise.' If so, then Peters was officially the coolest doctor Brandon had ever met.

* * *

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

Coming Home

Chapter Five

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Notes: Thar be teh sexorz here!

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

The bathing room at the clinic was nice, and spacious, and once Mattie ran Teva through all the various knobs and switches-"these are for the heat lamp, this is the fan, the shower has that all-over rain effect so be careful when you turn it on that it's not stuck on that setting otherwise you'll get soaked..."-Teva closed the door behind her.

"So," Teva hummed, slipping off her shoes and socks, and lining them up neatly by the door a safe distance away from the spray, "I suppose the first thing we should do is get you undressed and transferred to the shower chair, hm?"

A little smile played on Brandon's lips as he replied, "That seems logical."

But first, Teva flicked on the fan, one of those large industrial ones that were super loud. Yes, that would do.

Then she stepped lightly, quietly over the dry, sloped tile, and stood in front of Brandon, putting the brakes on his chair. "You should take your shirt off," she stated teasingly. However, it wasn't so much for the sensuality of the moment. Getting Brandon back in the habit of doing things for himself was good. It was those little everyday tasks that were going to help get him back on his feet sooner.

"Okay," he agreed, and lifted the hem up over his head, pulling his arms out of the holes as well.

Teva took the sweatshirt and joked, "Now, I don't want you overbalancing, so I think I'll do your shoes, if that's alright."

"Its fine," Brandon laughed.

So, tucking his sweatshirt underneath her legs, she knelt, and undid the careful knots that Mr. Reyes had tied in them earlier, then she loosened the laces and slipped his foot out, placing it back down on the rest. After his shoes were gone, his socks followed, and she traced her fingertips over the little grooves in his skin left by the tight material.

"Okay," Teva began, "Let's get you standing. First things first, lift your feet up so I can flip the footrests out of the way."

Groaning in an exaggerated fashion, Brandon joked, "They didn't tell me this was going to be another exercise session."

Leaning in, she playfully nipped his inner leg an inch or two above the knee right through his sweatpants. "Quit your bitching. Just be grateful it's not Eric running your shower time. He'd probably tell you to grab onto the bars and stand the entire time."

As he shuddered dramatically, Bran's rebuttal was a quipped, "I definitely like this version better. How about if you get naked too, and we'll turn on the in-wall shower sprayers?"

Chuckling lowly, she drawled in response, "We'll see."

"Come on," Brandon cajoled, "You know that's why Mattie mentioned it."

She did know, actually. The nurse had sent a rather obvious wink in her direction as she'd said it, and she totally was planning on taking advantage of that.

"Maybe," Teva told her boyfriend, though there was an obvious smile in her voice as she said it. "Now lift your feet." That time Brandon didn't argue, and she got the footrests out of the way, and his feet on the warm tile floor. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to stand using the armrests of the wheelchair for support, and your pants are going to come off. Then I'm going to place your right hand on the armrest of the shower chair. You're going to turn ninety degrees counterclockwise-the chair is perpendicular to the wheelchair-and then sit your ass down. Got it?"

"Got it," Brandon nodded, his face taking on a mulish cast.

She patted his knee, thinking maybe he was imagining that was going to be hard work. "I'll have you the entire time. And just think? That's the hard part." Her voice dropped into a sensual purr as she said, "The rest of the time you can just sit there while I run my soapy hands all over you."

"You're a tease," Bran replied, but he was smiling as he said it. "Okay, let's do this."

Teva did a count for him, and on three Brandon lifted himself up thinking, _of course_ she would make him work for it. Right after PT no less, when his arms were already getting that Jell-O feel.

"If I fall on you while I'm naked, that may or may not be intentional," he warned, his voice already coming out shaky and strained as he held himself in somewhat of a standing position.

"If you fall on me I'm going to have an awfully hard time getting my clothes off," Teva countered as she slid the hem of the sweatpants down off his hips, pushing them all the way to the floor without trying to make the act of undressing him sexy. He was grateful for that, knowing he didn't have the strength to keep steady if she had tried to prolong the process any. Then he really _would_ have just sagged down onto her, and nothing quite screamed _sexy_ like a girl having to heft up the full weight of her boyfriend during 'let's do naughty things in the shower' time.

He smiled a little around his look of focus as they began the process of shifting him into the other chair, his voice coming out even more strained than it had before. "I think I...might be able to move enough...to help you with that."

The landing down onto the shower seat wasn't exactly a ten-point display of grace, and probably would've been worse if she hadn't held him enough to take some of the momentum away from the fall. She then pressed lightly on his chest until he was leaning against the chair's backrest, preventing him from having to try to keep himself sitting up straight the whole time.

"Just relax," she instructed him. "I'll do all the work for now, then we'll see about letting you help me get out of my clothes."

"Okay," he readily agreed, feeling a little like a teenage boy who was about to get his first lap dance. Maybe he _was_ about to get a lap dance, only without the music. He didn't mind that thought one bit.

Teva lifted the brakes on the wheelchair saying, "I'm just going to push your wheelchair over by the door. That way it's not getting hit by the water."

"Okay," Brandon nodded unnecessarily as she piled his clothes up on the seat, and pushed it into the little alcove by the door. A moment later she was back and turning on the spray. Teva stood to one side, letting it hit the floor close to the drain, until she got the temperature just right. Reaching up, she took the wand out of the holder, and brought it down.

"Water," she warned with a little laugh as she came up behind Bran and let the spray soak his dark hair, plastering it to his skin, then run over his shoulders and arms, down his chest, and finally to his legs. "Is the temperature okay?"

"Mmhm," he nodded, almost sleepily.

She kissed his wet, scruffy cheek, collecting water droplets on her lips as she did so. "Do you want me to give you a shave?" Teva asked out of curiosity.

"That'd be nice," Brandon answered honestly. "But do you have the supplies?"

"Mattie left some." Hanging the shower head back up in its cradle, she reached for the all-in-one in the dispenser on the wall. As she was pumping it into her hands, and the cool, 'unscented' scent hit her nose, it occurred to her to ask her boyfriend, "Do you want me to bring in toiletries of your own? They'll permit that."

"You sure about that?"

"I remember the brand of your gingerbread body wash, and you've got some shampoo at the safe house," she volunteered. Running her soapy hands over Brandon's hair, Teva began working the clinic-provided product into a lather. She gave in to the temptation to reach for his chi, and while she rubbed her fingers in tiny circles over his scalp and down his neck, she started relieving the pain from his sore muscles.

"You should..." his breath came in a tiny sigh as he stated, "I forgot how good that feels."

"Lean forward a little so I can get your back," Teva directed absently. He did so, and she trailed both soap and magic down his spine, pulling his chi along with her. "So is that a yes to the cookie wash?"

"Hm?" Brandon replied. Then after a minute he seemed to remember what they'd been talking about. "Oh, yes, please."

Her hands slid back up his skin, and across his shoulders, both rubbing the sore muscles, soaping them up, and pulling his chi along with her at the same time. Then Teva shifted around the chair so she stood in front of Bran, running her hands down his arms all the way to his fingertips, where he gripped her hands for a second and said in a husky voice, "Kiss me."

Leaning in, she did just that, but when Brandon tried to draw her into a longer liplock, she stepped back. He made a little face of disappointment. Teva chuckled. "Business first." She gently disentangled her fingers, sliding them back up his skin, and down his chest.

Brandon groaned, and gave an exaggerated pout.

"Yes," she sighed, "I know, I'm so mean."

"You are," he agreed, though there was a hint of a smile on his face as he said the words.

Despite his protestations, Teva knew he appreciated being clean. Brandon was pretty fastidious, not necessarily in his housekeeping because god knew that could use some work, but in terms of personal care, oh yes. Unabashedly, she ran her hands over his genitals, noting with a smile that he was beginning to show signs of arousal. Brandon jerked in her hands, and he hissed, "Warn a guy next time, angel."

She traced her soapy fingers over his balls, and purred, "Consider yourself warned."

He laughed a little distractedly, and his legs opened a bit wider almost subconsciously.

Teva moved on before he got too into it, squeezing another pump from the dispenser into her hands so she could get his legs and feet. She concentrated extra hard on relieving his pain there, feeling that it was actually worse than his arms despite the fact that Bran had been carrying most of his weight on his upper half. It was a testament to just how bad his current state was that even the meager weight he'd been putting on his legs was a strain.

She straightened, and took the sprayer back off the wall as she said, probably unnecessarily, "Time for rinsing."

Brandon closed his eyes as the warm water cascaded down his face, rinsing off the soap and sweat. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought to ask Teva before about helping him out with his little sore muscle problem.

No, scratch that, he _could_ believe it because that's just how his brain was still functioning lately. It was getting better every day though, his timelines clicking back into their proper order, the filters coming back online one at a time, his thought processes making a little more sense instead of popping out completely at random. It wouldn't be too much longer before he was back to his old self, at least on the mental scale of things.

Physically? He wondered if the pace would step up a notch if Teva kept up with her chi pull thing. He could work a little harder if he wasn't hurting, but then again, that might put too much strain on the healing muscles. No, he would keep this little trick a secret and stick to Eric's plans. The man was a professional and knew how much Brandon's body could take before causing damage, and tended to push right to that line enough as it was. It would be smarter to just go along with that and be happy that he didn't hurt so bad in the interim.

"That feel good?" Teva asked quietly.

"Mmhmm," he answered happily as the spray drew a warm line across his shoulders. "It'll feel better when business is over though, which is...now?"

She patted his cheek. "You still need a shave. And a haircut, actually."

Brandon scoffed. "You _don't_ have supplies for _that_, do you?"

"Lucky for you, I don't," she replied as she finished the rinse job and stepped away, probably to get the shaving supplies. "Consider that on my list though. Shampoo, cookie soap, and a good pair of scissors. Can't have you going out in public again looking like a caveman."

"Oh my god!" Brandon spat out in mock shock and offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "You let me go to the pool like that? Forget what my pale, scrawny ass looks like, those old bats probably thought I was a-" he let out a little mortified gasp, "-a hippie!"

She laughed and pushed him back against the chair again. "Tilt your head back and keep still, smartass. The sooner I can get this done, the sooner we can move on to _other_ business."

"_Other_ business better mean the kind that kids have to hack into the Matrix to see," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"Shush," she scolded, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she set to work.

Her hands were steady as she applied the shaving cream and picked up the razor. She started with Brandon's sideburns, grateful that she'd at least watched other men perform this seemingly benign task before. Slow, steady strokes took off the excess hairs as she moved inward, going in the direction of the hair growth to prevent cutting and in-grown hairs. Her strokes were gentle and very careful around his mouth, and ended up leaving that little bit of stubble that he seemed to prefer-_fuck yeah, I am awesome_-then wordlessly tilting Brandon's head back a little further to get his neck.

Rinsing and capping the blade, Teva cupped her hands under the water and used it to rinse the excess shaving cream off of his face. "Feel that and tell me how I did," she commanded while rinsing her hands off.

Brandon's hands rose up to his face, gliding over the skin. He smiled. "Good. You did fine." Hands reaching out, he found her thighs, bare and damp from the spray, and groaned, gliding up over her denim shorts to her waist. He hugged her quickly, unexpectedly, his face pressing against her stomach. "Thank you," he mumbled into her shirt.

"God...dammit, Bran," Teva cursed half-heartedly and squirmed. "You just got my shirt wet."

Tipping his face back, he said impishly, "Oops. Guess you should probably take it off so it can dry."

"You..." she couldn't even pretend to be angry; Teva let out a peal of laughter that she could no longer contain. "Fine, yes, I'll take it off."

Brandon's fingers slid underneath her tank top, gliding up over her ribs, which set her to breathing deeply through the tingly-shivery feelings that incited. The tank tops bunched over his wrists, then he found her braless breasts, and jerked back, looking up in her direction with shock written all over his face reflexively. "No bra?" he squeaked. Then, "Wait a minute, have you been running around all day without a bra on? Teva, what if..."

"What?" she prompted, not exactly sure what the big fucking deal was. "B, news flash, I only bother to put on a bra like twice a week, if that. Tiny tits are a benefit in some ways."

"But what if Eric saw your nipples? Or god forbid, Peters." Brandon grumbled. He pinched them, and she shuddered. "Those are my nipples. All for me."

With laughter in her voice, she replied, "Baby, I hate to remind you of this, but Peters has already had the opportunity to gaze at my nips, if he wanted to. And as for Eric, it's not like I'm running around wearing invisible shirts. I even wore two tank tops today to make sure my nips weren't visible."

"Still don't like it," he grumped in a vaguely pouty tone.

Teva rolled her eyes, and pulled her tank top over her head, holding the bundle of cloth in her hand. "Don't be a baby," she said, and wiggled her hips. "Now do you want to help me get these shorts off, or are you just going to covet my tits all day?"

Palms tightening momentarily on her breasts as she brought them up again, Brandon sighed, let go, and trailed his fingers over her stomach until he found the waistband of her shorts. "Tiny shorts," he mused almost under his breath, and seemed to get lost for a minute in memory. "Angel, why do you wear such tiny shorts? They're-" he paused, working the button until it popped open, "-distracting."

Without fanfare, Teva told him, "Because, generally speaking, the less clothing I'm wearing, the better my mood is."

"Mm." He kissed the skin of her lower belly as he worked the zipper down, the fly falling open to reveal soft, tender flesh, and the top of a pair of lacy underwear.

Her shorts almost fell, but she managed to catch them. Gently putting her hands over Brandon's, she stepped back. "I gotta go put my clothes by the door, otherwise I'll be walking around with chafing shorts for the rest of the day."

"Okay," Brandon grumbled and let her go.

She dropped her clothes on top of his, and pushed her panties over her hips as well. Stark nude and hoping the staff was really going to keep their promise about leaving them alone, because she knew they'd already been in there awhile, and 'awhile' was about to stretch into 'forever,' she walked back over the now-wet tile floor. It would be disconcerting to say the least if somebody knocked on the door.

The shower knob had a second dial around it, which were the control settings for the shower. Teva clicked it three times to the right, and the all-over shower sprayers came on, making her squeal with the abruptness that she found herself drenched. "Oh my god!" she laughed, and danced away, then back again sliding her hands over Brandon's shoulders. "Well, if there'd been any doubt before, they certainly won't hear anything now."

Brandon laughed and agreed, "All-over shower definitely seems worth it. Wonder how much these cost to install." His arms found her legs again, then slid up over her butt to her waist, exerting a little pressure for her to move toward him. The only place to go was up on the seat though, so cocking one knee, she tested the chair's support. Luckily, it seemed to have been built with larger patients in mind. Teva was able to get her other leg up there without a problem.

"You are not remodeling my bathroom," she grunted as her legs spread over his, settling her in his lap. "It's a rental."

"But you already remodeled everything else," Bran pointed out reasonably, his lips finding her neck, and moving until he found just the right spot to make her shiver and nearly forget the mock-argument. A tiny sound escaped her.

When she was able to respond, Teva rebutted his argument with, "But nothing I've done is permanent. The flooring can be taken out in the workout room easily. It's not held down with anything."

"Point," Brandon conceded, not really caring about the faux disagreement at all as he found her mouth.

They kissed for a long time, a _long_ time, Brandon simply enjoying the taste of the shower water running off her lips. It had been too long since they had really been together, too long since his tongue last danced over hers, too long since he had been able to breathe in her soft moans. His hands glided over her body as the two of them kept their lips locked together, creating a mental image through touch of all the details of her that he could no longer see. He sought out the scars on her back and front, the newest one from Trick's blade still standing out a bit on her otherwise soft flesh; he traced each one of her vertebrae from her tailbone all the way to the back of her neck, thinking idly that _her_ hair had grown just tiny bit longer too; his fingers caressed her face, came down over her eyelids that she, too, was apparently keeping shut against the water's spray.

For the moment, she was as blind as he was.

He smiled at the thought of being on even ground as he moved his hands lower, first wrapping around her back again to find her ass which he clenched tightly, eliciting a little squeak from her that he swallowed with pleasure. He kept going, trailing down the length of her thighs and back up, reveling in how silky her legs felt under the water's mist. His hand traveled slowly up her sides next, making another little detour over to her breasts before they found their way to her shoulders and down her arms. One of her hands was bracing the back of his head, keeping him pressed into her with the same intense longing that he had been feeling since that hated day at the airport, and the other hand was gripping the back of the chair, probably to keep herself in position without relying on him to hold onto her.

_That_ made him feel a little sad, wanting to but knowing that he couldn't just let her grip him for support, that he wouldn't be able to just pick her up and brace her against him as she focused on...other things.

The hand leaving the back of his head and slipping down...and down...and down made him instantly forget about being sad.

"Oh, god," he groaned out on a shuddering breath against her mouth. She grinned and bit his bottom lip just slightly as his hands found a grip on her waist again. She took advantage of that hold, trusting him to keep her from falling for a second as she leaned over to the side, freaking him out a little bit at the possibility of the whole chair tipping over. He was about to say something about that when her weight centered again, and any sort of scolding was cut off as her hand wrapped around his length and began sliding up and down easily with the use of the soap she had acquired.

"Mm, I love you," he barely got out before his mouth found hers again, thinking that his therapy was way, _way_ better than his normal routine.

Teva took advantage of a momentary parting of lips to sass, "I think what you really mean right now is 'mm, I love sex.'" She rubbed her thumb in a tiny circle just under the flared tip of his cock, bringing Brandon's breath out in a shuddery exhalation against her lips.

"That too," he admitted with a little laugh. His mouth latched onto her neck, clearly seeking out her weak points. She gave in, tipping her head back slightly, and moaning out her pleasure. Her hand sped up subconsciously as her breath started coming in little pants. "Shit," Brandon hissed, and his teeth closed on her flesh. She stiffened up all over while her mouth opened in a helpless mewl. His tongue soothed the abused flesh, even as one of his hands left her hips, and wrapped around hers, stilling it on his length. "Remember," he pulled back to whisper, "It's been awhile."

"Sorry," she squeezed out while Brandon moved on with barely a pause, trailing his lips down her chest, and swirling around her tightened bud with his tongue.

"No apologies," he breezed, and nipped her playfully. He let go of her hand, and slipped his fingers up her inner thigh, following the line to the throbbing core of her.

"Oh, god, yes," Teva sighed as his touch played over the sensitive skin of her folds. Clearly, he wasn't having any issues remembering how to get her off expertly. As that deft touch moved closer to her clit, she let go of the back of the chair, rising up a little more on her knees to keep her balance poised over the chair.

"Angel," Brandon's hand pressed a little more urgently on her lower back, "You make me nervous when you do that."

"Hush," she responded quickly, "My balance is the stuff of legend."

"You fell the first time we had sex," he blurted out incredulously. The implied 'legend, my ass' went unsaid.

"I blame that entirely on the sheets," Teva huffed imperiously. "Now less insulting my grace, more rubbing of the clit."

Chuckling, Brandon complied, then rotated his hand around so that he could slide a finger inside of her, essentially cupping her in his hand.

"Yes," she hissed, and lowered her lips to his for another long, drawn-out liplock, her hands gliding over his shoulders, directing his chi to ease some of the strain building up there from the...prolonged activity. Then her mouth went further down, kissing over his neck, and nibbling on his collarbones. Unfortunately, gravity being what it was, that was as far as Teva could bend without fucking up her center of gravity and ending up in a heap on the floor. Her hands made up for the lack, tracing his skin and the scant muscle underneath, circling his nipples until they reacted to the stimuli, then down the middle of his abdomen until she trailed over his navel.

The water had rinsed away the soap on his genitals, which was probably a good thing, all things considered. She couldn't imagine that soap in her cooter would be a pleasant sensation.

Another finger joined the first, and crooked just slightly, enough that she needed to grip the back of the chair again to catch her balance. Lips quirking, Brandon nibbled up and down her neck while he worked her into a state where she was more than ready.

Teva wrapped her fingers around his wrist, stilling him in a similar fashion to what had occurred earlier.

"Now?" Brandon wondered, obeying the request and sliding his fingers out of her.

"Definitely now," she agreed, her voice low and flush with heat and promise. Angling his length just right, Teva lowered herself onto him. It was different from the first time, her body almost seeming to welcome his right away; a quick, wet slide, minimal resistance aside from the initial stretch-and-burn which never quite seemed to leave her, memory recalled, no matter how often she was getting fucked into oblivion. She let out a relieved breath-_way to cooperate, body_-and slowly rolled her hips, taking him in the rest of the way.

Instinct taking over, Brandon thoughtlessly planted his weight down into his feet so he could adjust himself inside her a little better. The strain was instantly too much, especially following so soon after his PT session, and he let go of Teva's waist as he dropped heavily back into the seat, gripping the armrests of the chair.

"Shit," he gasped, "I'm sorry."

He began to turn his face away in shame at his inability to perform properly, but she caught his chin with her hand and gave him another gentle kiss. "Hey, stop apologizing, okay? This isn't your fault. All I want you to do," she turned his face a little to the side so she could kiss his neck just under his ear, "is sit there," she turned his head the other way to plant a matching kiss on the other side, "and enjoy it."

As Teva began to rock her hips, slowly at first, her hand letting go of his chin to fold around his shoulder, he found his own hands slipping back around her waist. It was hard for him not to reciprocate the movement, and despite her instruction to sit still he found that if he didn't move a _lot_, he could use the leverage from his arms to work in tandem with her a little bit. That seemed to satisfy her as much as it did him, and it wasn't long before the two of them found a working rhythm.

Getting a little brave, he made sure his back was pressed firmly into the chair for balance so he could let go with one hand, bringing it up to pinch one of her nipples and rolling the bud between his fingers. He remembered she always seemed to like that a lot when she was nearing climax, and she responded by digging her fingers into his shoulder and letting out a pleasurable moaning gasp.

"What was that...about just...sitting here?" he panted as she sped up her movements, forcing him to focus _really_ hard on not putting too much tension in his legs. At that point if she arched back too much, she was on her own, because there was just way too much going on that required his attention. Catching her wouldn't be an option.

Teva snorted rudely through her nose in lieu of a laugh, and brushed her mouth over Brandon's forehead, and nose, and his sweet, closed eyelids that always looked a little bruised to her, the purplish veins close to the surface there.

"I love you," she murmured, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling, and it definitely was love. Yeah, sure, she was turned on too, but rising up above that was this warm, airy feeling, kind of like this one night when she was a kid.

That was before Tamsin split. They were fifteen, and had gone to a party in the neighborhood, stayed out all night, and then ran up to the roof of their apartment building. Teva was wrapped in her favorite blanket, and she and Tamsin were sitting on the building's ledge, their feet dangling in the air while they ate popsicles-red for Teva, purple for Tamsin, not that there was actually that much difference in taste between the two. They watched the sun come up like that, quietly, but sitting together, and maybe it was the synthahol or the weed, or the blanket and popsicle, or sitting on the ledge tempting fate; whatever it was, it made her feel like she was a feather or a beam of light, ready to zip away at a moment's notice, a part of it all, but separate at the same time.

She kissed Brandon hard, anchoring herself to the earth with the touch, and the delicious ache within the center of her. It wasn't the rowdiest fuck she'd ever had, or the deepest penetration, but that was the thing: sometimes it was just the angle that mattered, and this was, simply put, perfect; sliding over her g-spot on the out-stroke. Her breath came out in one of those low, ecstatically-tortured moans again as clever fingers pinched and teased her breasts, and each movement jerked something deep inside of her.

Rhythmically squeezing her inner muscles around Brandon's dick had him groaning, dipping his head against her shoulder momentarily. "Please tell me you're close," he almost begged.

"Almost," she panted, and slipped her hand between them, playing with her sensitive flesh to speed up the process. Her other palm went from his shoulder to the back of the chair, giving her better leverage and changing up the angle slightly, sliding deeper until he bumped her cervix. Teva made a high, startled sound of pleasure, and her back arched, though clinging to the back of the chair was able to balance it out. Two more strokes like that and she was done, coming with a groaned "oh _god_." Her forehead rested on Brandon's shoulder as she forced herself to keep moving through her climax, drawing it out until she was almost pained by the overload of sensation, and Brandon's hands suddenly gripped her tight enough to bruise, a wordless exclamation escaping him.

His lips parted, his eyebrows drawn down in a look of pinched pleasure as her body milked his orgasm of every last drop of pleasure. Brandon slumped bonelessly against the chair back, and sighed, pulling her close and searching her mouth out with his for what was probably the sweetest kiss anybody had ever given her. His grip was loose now, and he murmured against her lips, "I love you too. So, so much."

Laughing, Teva squeezed him in a quick hug. "I know you do." Wiggling a little, she stated smugly, "I think we did pretty good. You?"

"_You_ were amazing," Brandon said with a smile as he locked his hands loosely behind her back. "I did okay for a blind, crippled guy, so yeah, I think that averages out to good."

"Bran, don't-"

"No, no, that was a compliment to myself, trust me. This was kind of a proud accomplishment for me, even though I think I might have to skip the parallel bars tomorrow."

Teva laughed at that and carefully slid off his lap, then sighed in what seemed like a mockingly exaggerated fashion. "Oh man, now I have to clean you up all over again."

"Whose fault is that?" he asked in a perfectly innocent tone.

Her answer was to do a little more teasing with her hands as she cleaned him up again, giggling as he squirmed a little under her touch. He volunteered to clean her up next, but she danced out of his reach before he could catch her, telling him there was no time for vengeance. They'd already been in the shower long enough where people might start to wonder if they hadn't drowned each other.

It was after the water was turned off and Brandon somewhat helped Teva get him into a fresh set of scrubs that he realized how phenomenally tired he was.

"I think I want to be back in the bed for lunch, if you don't mind," he told her around a yawn as she pushed him back into the room.

Mattie's voice nearby startled him a little. "As long as you don't pass out in your soup - and before you make that face, relax, it's creamy cheddar broccoli."

He almost _had_ made his token 'yuck' face at the mention of soup, so tired of broth that if he never saw it again it'd be too soon. Thick, creamy, cheesy soups were a whole different story though, and that made him happy enough to want to stay awake for the meal. At least for most of it.

A little bit of an awkward silence filled the room, Mattie obviously wanting to ask about how the shower went, but was polite enough to keep her mouth shut, and the experience too recent where any attempt at small talk would just be an overly obvious avoidance of the topic. Instead, Teva and Mattie quietly helped Brandon get up onto the bed, after which the nurse ducked out telling them she'd be back soon with his lunch.

Brandon and Teva were silent for all of two seconds before they burst out laughing.

"Awkwaaaard..." he sang lightly.

"Understatement," she agreed, still chuckling, and crawled up on the bed beside him while they waited for his meal.

They fell silent again, but in a happy, peaceful way as she snuggled up against him. One of his hands absently rubbed up and down her arm as he inwardly basked in his glowing moment of triumph. He hadn't actually _done_ much, no, but just thinking he was still functional versus actually experiencing it made all the difference in the world. It made him feel more useful again in a strange way, not necessarily as just a living sex toy, but in a fair trade, serve and be served kind of way. He considered that to be a step in the right direction, just one more little thing that made him feel closer to being normal again.

Well, as normal as he and Teva got, which was still probably closer to the crazy side of things, but that was perfectly fine with him. The two of them could be crazy together.

* * *

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

Coming Home

Chapter Six

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Bran dozed after lunch. Okay, okay, she did too. Yep, crawled right up there on the bed with him, and snuggled until Kristi woke them to get Bran's dinner order. He got to choose between garlic mashed potatoes and couscous. Privately, Kristi confided, "Go with the couscous. The cook makes it with tiny little bits of chicken in it. Nothing you can choke on, but it gives it a little extra oomph. And yes, Peters is okay with this, I checked."

So Brandon had couscous for dinner, and Teva played around with his trid for a bit, finding a channel playing that weird Aztlanian soap opera that Madden liked, and leaving it on mostly because the noise soothed her. "You know, Madden and I watch foreign soaps once a week," she commented idly. "Well, I don't know if I so much as watch them as I do marvel over the craziness of them, but anyway, we do that...so I hope you like soap operas 'cause he sure does."

Chuckling, Brandon had replied, "I don't mind listening. Not like I can tell what's going on though."

"Well, right now Mary Lucia, or whatever her name is, is talking to BLTA about something. I don't know, how many donkey shows they've starred in maybe-"

Brandon barked out a laugh.

"-And oh shit, now there's a chick-fight. Okay, now there's a dude breaking it up...so I surmise it was probably about some 'you stole my man' bullshit."

"What's a BLTA?" Bran wanted to know.

"Big Lips, Tits, and Ass," Teva replied promptly.

"Oh my god," he muttered, shaking his head and grinning. "Why did I not just guess that right off the bat?"

"Dunno. You should really know my disdain for women with huge knockers by now," Teva shot back, smirking. "I have some serious cleavage envy."

That set him to laughing even harder.

Once he got himself back under control, he quirked up an eyebrow and pointed out very casually, "But, angel, if you had huge knockers then you'd have to wear a bra all the time."

"Hm," she responded thoughtfully. "Point."

Brandon grinned as he finished his dinner and got everything set off to the side on his own, giving Teva room to crawl back onto the bed. She performed her own little version of translation improv for him, and by the time the show was over, Brandon was certain it must have been a comedy instead of a soap. He decided watching these things with her and Madden could prove to be very interesting if the troll was actually trying to pay attention while she was busy making a mockery of it for Brandon's general amusement. He also assumed that it would be funny as shit because he honestly didn't think Madden would resort to hitting either Teva or a blind, defenseless cripple. They'd be in the clear outside of a verbal lashing.

After 'watching' more of the trid for a bit, Kristi interrupted to tell them hours were up, so it was time to say those dreaded goodbyes. Once again they refused to actually say the words, going with sweet 'I love you's and cheerful 'see you in the morning's. Brandon reminded Teva to bring his favored shower things, and she reminded _him_ that business was going to involve a haircut. He countered with the fact that she would have the time after his lunch to cut his hair, to which she argued that he'd be asleep, and cutting hair while the cuttee was passed out would only lead to bad things.

They fake bickered like that until Kristi officially had to come kick Teva out, and she gave him one more quick kiss before she was out the door. Brandon sighed, happy with how the day had gone, and wrote about it in his tablet, smiling as Nate 2.0 (or, as he more appropriately dubbed it 'Deuce') read the words back to him. He fell asleep with that content grin on his face...and woke up to a flood of warm, coppery liquid in his mouth.

As if it wasn't already hard enough for him to tell time, he found himself trapped in a nightmare where consciousness came to him in a series of quick, interrupted flashes - machines beeping, someone shouting something about rolling him over, hands all over him one second, suddenly gone the next, a pain in his shoulder, a prick in his arm, someone pinning down his hand, an invasion of healing magic, an uncontrolled cry that might have been his, an electrified network spiderwebbing across the back of his head, a sudden calm taking over that made time stop again, and carried him away on a dark little boat in a dark little river.

The world had slowed down to its normal pace when Brandon came to again, but he felt almost as drained as he had been during those first days of awaking from his coma. Eyes blinking partially open sluggishly, he was aware of a rubbery taste in his mouth along with the lingering flavor of blood, and it took him a few slow seconds to realize he was biting down on something. When he tried to reach his hand up to investigate, he felt the familiar pull of the IV line in the back of his hand that he thought he'd been rid of.

"Lay still, son," Dr. Peters ordered him gently. "We'll trade that mouthpiece out for a new one in just a second. I just need to turn you over a bit so I can sit the bed up some."

Brandon realized then that he was lying on his side in a curled position, but didn't bother trying to help much as Peters stretched him out and maneuvered him onto his back. He was exhausted, and confused, and a little sore (especially in his shoulder), and just wanted to go back to sleep, but curiosity kept him awake.

Once the bed had raised him to a more upright position, the doc instructed Brandon to open his mouth so he could get the rubber guard out and offered him some water to do a rinse.

"You had a seizure, Brandon, a fairly bad one," Peters finally explained, getting Brandon a fresh cup of water to drink from. "You bit your tongue up pretty good, which is why you have the mouth guard. I'll have to ask you to put in another one before you go back to sleep."

Digging up the strength to speak, Brandon whispered, "Another one?" He winced as something that felt like a very low level cattle prod shocked the back of his head. Peters seemed to pay it no mind.

"For another seizure, yes. You had two smaller ones last night as well, I'm afraid. I was hoping to let you ride them out, but you were at risk of hurting yourself so we had to resort to medicating you - nothing addictive, I promise. I'm sorry we damaged your shoulder in the process of holding your arm down, but you wrenched at just the wrong time. I had one of the mages patch up the damage as much as he was able on both the dislocation and your tongue, but you know how it is. We can only do so much around here."

"Rejection?" Brandon asked, bringing the doctor back to the main point, but almost afraid to hear the answer.

The doc patted his leg in a reassuring manner. "No, son, rejection would've come much sooner. This is just a reaction to the cell regeneration, something your body is trying to adjust to. I told you before this was a possibility."

Brandon closed his eyes, trying to think. "Don't remember."

"Yes, well, like you said before, you were somewhat out of it at the time of the explanation. Think of it like how the old chemotherapy treatments used to make cancer patients sick. It's not pleasant, but the final outcome often outweighs the short-term side effects. In this case, I will tell you that of the patients who experienced such drastic reactions to the regrowth treatment, a greater number of them had a higher success rate than those who never showed any reactions at all."

"Lucky me," Brandon hissed as another shock went through his head. "How long?"

"Will it last?" Peters asked, used to the sort of shorthand speech that people in pain often used. "Typically no more than twenty-four hours. You'll probably experience a few more smaller seizures throughout the day, so I'm sorry, but I've called your loved ones already to inform them that they can't come see you today. We can't have people lingering around getting underfoot, plus bearing witness to such an event is never easy on family. They can visit with you tomorrow."

That wasn't good. He had still forgotten to sign the release of information waiver, meaning Peters hadn't been able to actually explain to anyone exactly what was going on. If Peters had already called them, that meant it was probably morning sometime, and Teva getting woken up to an early morning call informing her that she couldn't come see him was probably freaking her out.

"Need to tell her," Brandon said as forcefully as he could, willing his eyes to open again. "Tell Teva why. Tell her I'm okay."

Another electrified wave passed through the back of his head, this one painful enough to make him arch his back away from the pillow a little bit. Peters rested a hand on Brandon's arm until it passed, then made him put a new mouth guard in.

"I'll give her another call. You get some rest today, and tomorrow I'll draw up the appropriate contract to allow familial rights to your girlfriend, alright?"

Brandon gave the doc a grateful nod, and pulled the mouthpiece out again to ask one more question. "Every treatment?"

Peters put the guard back in. "It'll get better as your body adjusts, but yes, this will be a recurring side effect for you. We can change programs if you'd like, try something else?"

One thing Brandon distinctly remembered was that Peters had told him this particular treatment had the highest success rate by far. He shook his head against the offer. One day. One full day after each treatment of having to deal with pain, seizures, and lying around in a hospital bed with an IV full of whatever keeping his body more relaxed. He could handle that. If it increased the odds of him getting his sight back, he could handle that.

He fell back to sleep before Peters had even finished getting the bed positioned back down, his only real concern being on Teva and how she must've been handling the non-news. He hoped the doc would call her back right away, otherwise she'd work herself into a frenzy and probably wouldn't have any nails left on her fingers when she came for him tomorrow.

* * *

Early in the morning, _too early_ in the morning, Teva got the call. It was a man she didn't know, but saying that he was from Brandon's Doc Wagon clinic. _Third shift,_ her tired mind supplied, _they're still on third shift._ "Mr. Wilson isn't able to receive visitors today." That was it. No explanations, nothing more. Just 'don't bother coming in; goodbye, click.' She stared at her comm incredulously, then fell back onto the bed, the blue comforter puffing up on either side of her head, wondering just what the fuck was going on.

She really wished she'd talked to Brandon about granting her permission to talk about these things. Maybe in the future they ought to think about Power of Attorney and that sort of thing. After all, 'running wasn't known for being a career path that was a bastion of safety, and if something like this happened to her, well, she'd want him to know. If they were each other's emergency contact at the very least she would have been informed when Brandon first came in.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth, cursing aloud in Rumanian as she looked at the torn skin. It was her index finger this time, the skin next to her middle finger too ragged and irritated to tolerate even subconscious nibbling. Rolling out of bed, she padded nude to the kitchen, and made the soycaf hours early.

Comfortable at the safe house, and knowing with certainty that she was alone, Teva had foregone pajamas, and slept in her skin, enjoying the sensual slide of the pima sateen sheets-even at his safe house, Brandon had clearly spared no expense; it was little indulgences like that which made her smile, because they revealed the voluptuary side in him, and she thought it was fitting somehow, that in this strange way they matched, both of them secretly obsessed with excess-and the soft, fluffy comforter. So she leaned against the kitchen counter unclothed, cigarette lit, flicking ash into the cup that she'd been using, with the aid of a little water in the bottom, as a makeshift ash tray. Frankly, she was surprised that as a former smoker, Brandon didn't have a real ash tray stashed somewhere around the apartment.

Teva hadn't lied or exaggerated when she said that less clothing made her happier. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was a holdover from living in Florida, where for a majority of the year it was blistering hot and scaldingly sunny, and wearing anything more than light dresses, shorts, and bathing suits was like asking for heat stroke. She'd grown used to spending most of the year wearing as little clothing as possible. Winter, with its jeans and sweaters and heavy coats, seemed to require so much excess clothing.

Clothing restricted movement. In Teva's line of work (and play), that was a risk, because if her jeans were too tight, and couldn't give her that extra inch of flexibility in her kick, she couldn't incapacitate in a single move. If she couldn't do that, then she was courting injury. One wrong injury meant death.

She'd fought naked before, once. It was when Maria was still among the living, and hadn't yet offered to betray her roommate for some extra money. The middle of the night, and she'd heard a noise, come out of her room armed with only one pistol, slipping down the hallway to investigate. Teva's room was the one closest to the front door, because if there was a threat, she wanted it to come to her first. Maria was an innocent, and she wouldn't use her for cannon fodder, not even to give herself a few more precious seconds to be prepared.

Teva had searched the apartment thoroughly, then when she came up empty-handed, slid into the kitchen for a glass of water. She disregarded the noise as her own imagination. Then as she was draining a glass, she felt it, the slight shifting of air. She'd dropped the glass on the floor, and moved just in time to avoid a swinging knife. She spun to face her attacker, but saw nothing. Either it was really expensive stealth gear or a spell. Her bare back pressed into the counter as she crouched. Inspired, she reached behind her for the flour, and emptied the container around the room. Light, white powder landed like snow on the assailant's form.

Grinning, she growled, "Gotcha," and proceeded to throw the contents of the knife block at him while he dodged her. Then he came in close, and it was knife on knife, her gun across the room next to the fridge, and Teva kicking herself for setting it down.

She didn't know anything about the guy. Not who he was or who hired him; all Teva knew was that he couldn't leave there alive. The man didn't know it, but by accepting this job, he'd ended his own life, because she wasn't going to let her location be compromised any more than it already was.

The fight got intense. He was definitely a professional. Desperate, bloody, and getting tired, she'd pulled the grenade right out of his hand, pinned him, and taped it in his mouth. Pushing him toward the outside wall, she'd run for the counter, diving over the edge. Maria was standing there in her nightgown, long, dark, curly hair a mess, eyes sleepy in her golden face, having come out to investigate the noise. Teva yanked her down just in time as the explosion ripped the kitchen apart, tore part of the outer wall down. Shrapnel-bone, and weapons, and gobs of flesh-hit the walls, and it was only the breakfast counter that saved her and Maria from possibly fatal injury.

She took a moment to thank _whatever_ that the blast hadn't reached the stove on the other side of the kitchen and triggered an even bigger explosion, because that one they definitely wouldn't have survived. Maria was crying, hysterical. Teva ordered her to get the fire extinguisher. In the midst of all the chaos, Maria had the presence of mind to finally look up at her and ask, "Why are you running around naked while strange men break in our apartment?"

Shrugging, she said unapologetically, "Well, given a choice between being caught with my pants halfway up my legs or being armed, I chose weapons."

The Aztlanian woman had shaken her head, and clucked her tongue in an almost maternal way. "Strange girl."

Teva startled out of her musing as the coffee maker beeped once, indicating that it was done. She grabbed a mug from the drying rack next to the sink, and filled it up, then set it on the counter to cool. Using her previous cigarette, she lit another one, holding the hot tip to the unlit, white-papered cylinder, and drawing air into her lungs until the tobacco caught. She dropped the old one in the cup.

She was standing with her right leg crossed over her left, her knee wiggling without her awareness. An unknown amount of time passed where she was just there, smoking, nervously wiggling, her worry giving her a kind of manic energy that seemed to paralyze her in the same moment.

The coffee in the cup went cool as Teva imagined all the things that could be going wrong. She was about to go get dressed, and march down to the clinic anyway when her comm went off again in the bedroom. It was only habit that had her balancing her cigarette on the edge of the sink, ash dropping into the stainless steel bowl, as she dashed into the room, flinging herself to get to her comm before it shot the call to her mailbox.

"Hello?" she bit out without even looking at the ID screen.

"Hello, Teva, this is Dr. Peters," the man himself greeted her. "How are you doing this morning?"

"Not fucking great," she snapped.

"That's what I was afraid of. Well, good news, Brandon came to and gave me permission to tell you exactly what's going on," the doctor began, pausing like he was expecting some kind of response.

All Teva was able to get out was an impatient, "_Well?_"

"Ah, yes...The treatment we gave Brandon yesterday?"

"Mm-hm," she hummed impatiently, making a rolling 'move on' gesture with her finger as the man paused again, like she was some kind of 'tard and he needed to make sure she was paying attention. She _was_ paying attention, alright! She was practically hanging on his every word!

"Well, it has some side effects in certain patients."

"Side effects?" Teva replied, and straightened up in alarm. "What kind of side effects?"

"Seizures, mostly," the doctor replied. When she began cursing, he said hurriedly, "No, no. I know this sounds like a bad thing, but trust me, it's not. The seizures are caused by the injection repairing the cell damage. It means the treatment is beginning to work. Frankly, patients with a more severe reaction have been known to have greater rates of recovery."

Teva sat down on the edge of the bed, drumming her fingers on the mattress. "So then why the order to stay away from the clinic if everything is fine?"

"Because, to be honest, we understand how disconcerting this process looks for outsiders," Doctor Peters explained. "He's having seizures, he's in pain. It's not pretty. Loved ones have a tendency to become hysterical and get in the way. Right now, the best thing you can do is stay away, and let us do our jobs. Please trust us when we say that we want our patients to make a full recovery. The healing process for this particular set of injuries is laborious, and it looks scary. If handled incorrectly, it can be. However, we are trained professionals. Give us some room to work, and I promise you that everything will be fine. He'll be back to normal tomorrow. Maybe a little weaker than usual, so I'll order Eric to take it easy on Brandon, but otherwise fine."

When she was silent for a beat too long, the doctor called, "Teva?"

Shaking her head, she focused on the conversation. "Yes?"

"So will you please stay out of the clinic today?" he asked politely.

"Yes," she nodded absently. "If that's what is best for him right now." Her heart was in her throat as she agreed, but she knew it was the right thing to do. Forcing her way in there, witnessing that... The doctor was right, it would upset her, make her doubt them. She knew Peters was telling her this because he had experience with this kind of reaction, and how her hesitation could morph into distrust; distrust could become active interference in their treatment, and _that_ could lead to precious seconds being wasted. It was the difference between being caught with her pants halfway up her legs or going for the gun instead. "Okay," Teva agreed, "If he... If he's awake later, tell him..." She hesitated, unable to trust a doctor with such an intimate message. "Tell him I'll be there tomorrow, bright and surly in the morning."

Dr. Peters let out a little chuckle. "I will. Have a good day."

"You too."

"Oh, and Teva?"

"Yes?"

"Brandon forgot to mention the Reyeses. However, just because I can't tell them what's going, that doesn't mean that you can't inform them. Though maybe put on your kid gloves with them," the doctor volunteered.

Swallowing hard, she huskily replied, "Yeah, okay. Thanks, doc."

"You're welcome," the man replied and hung up the line.

Teva stared at the blank comm screen for a second, then thought about calling the Reyeses until she realized with an eye roll that she didn't have their number. She would have to go to the apartment, and that, dammit, was going to wait a little while. She needed caffeine, a shower, and to burn off some of that anxious energy.

She fell back onto the mattress again, the comforter once again poofing up to shield her face from the world. It was like blinders on a horse. Focus straight ahead, Teva told herself. Just think about the immediate future. Her eyes closed, and she breathed deeply, centering herself. A few minutes later, she'd slipped into a light doze.

Eventually Teva woke up again, still worried, but feeling a little more grounded after the nap. For the first time in days, she put on her running shoes, and did three miles before she bought water from a Stuffer Shack, then followed the same path back to the safe house straight up into the shower.

After all that, she showed up on the Reyeses doorstep bearing a pineapple she'd picked up at a farmers market on the way. "Teva!" Mrs. Reyes answered the door in shock. "Come in, come in. Do you have news?" The older woman hustled her into the apartment, nearly a mirror image in layout of Brandon's old one across the hall, and closed the door behind her.

"Ah, kind of," Teva replied, and held out the pineapple. "I brought you a present. Where's your hubby?"

"Pineapple, how wonderful!" Adelle smiled and took the prickly fruit right out of her hands, shuffling into the kitchen with it. "You can tell me what is going with our mijo while I cut this."

"Okay." Teva leaned against the counter top, crossing her arms underneath her chest protectively. Something of her mood must have shown on her face or in her posture, because the next thing she knew, Mrs. Reyes was plunking down a glass in front of her, and pulling a bottle out of the freezer.

"Tata already had one before he left today as well," the older woman sighed, and splashed some tequila into the glass. "Helps him relax. As much as he pretends he is the stoic one, the truth is my Carl is much more tenderhearted than I. He's grown attached to Brandon, and this strange phone call this morning has upset him more than he lets on."

"Where is he?" Teva asked, looking around the apartment, but finding no one. She drained the cool contents of the glass in her hand, then absently refilled it.

Mrs. Reyes plucked a large knife out of the block, and pulled the cutting board out from underneath the counter. Turning the pineapple on its side, she efficiently hacked off the sharp, green leafy bits. "You know us retired people. We have our habits. When my husband was working full-time, he and his work friends would go out for a fish fry once a week. He called some up, and had them meet him at the restaurant." She put the pineapple upright again, then sliced around the edges so the hard skin came off, then rotated slightly and repeated the procedure. "I do not know if I was making him nervous, or if he was making _me_ more nervous." Adelle punctuated her statement by laughing nervously.

Sighing, Teva swirled the liquid in her glass, and sipped at it that time. "I understand that. Bran's going to be okay, by the way."

"Oh, good," the other woman cried, turning a happy smile on her which immediately began to dim. "Why do you not look happier?"

"He's, uh...experiencing some side effects from the injection yesterday, so he's pretty sick," Teva admitted. "That's why they don't want any visitors today."

Adelle's weathered face crinkled up further as she studied Teva gravely. "Hm, I see," she finally said. "Well, we will pray for a swift recovery. But for the moment, we will eat pineapple and drink tequila."

"Sounds good to me," Teva drawled with a minuscule smile. "Keep the booze comin'."

* * *

The next time Brandon woke he was coughing.

_No_, he was _crying_, and as the electric burn fizzled out in his head he could almost swear he could hear little pops and crackles like bugs flying into a zapper.

"It's over, you're okay. Shhhhh, you're okay, Brandon."

It took him a second to recognize Darlene's voice, and to register her hand rubbing little circles on the back of his shoulder. He lay still for a few minutes just letting the pain fade away and the incredible tightness drain out of his muscles. It took him a little longer to realize he had flipped himself almost entirely onto his stomach, the hand with the IV trapped underneath him tangling up the line somewhat.

Sniffling, he turned his face a little further into the pillow to wipe his eyes on the fabric, and made a passive attempt to roll himself back over. He would've failed had Darlene and someone else...a _couple_ someones...not been there to help him. They got his arm freed and the tube straightened out again before Darlene dismissed everyone else.

"Why don't we get some more water in you before you pass back out on me," she said casually, as if nothing had happened.

He stayed still, taking in deep breaths through his nose as she worked the guard out from between his teeth. A long string of saliva came with it, dripping down his chin, making him feel immediately disgusted with himself. He found he didn't have the strength to even lift his arm to wipe it off, though, which made him want to start crying all over again. It had only been a few weeks since he had last been this helpless, and falling back into that state brought on his ever-familiar depression.

A wet rag pressed up against his face and neck, cleaning up the evidence of his inability to control what his body was doing, and a straw was pressed against his lips. Taking a few weak swallows, he turned away from the straw so he could mouth a small, "Thank you."

"_You_ are welcome," the nurse answered cheerfully, and gave him a pat on the hand. "Now, you just got a little water on your gown, there, so I'm going to go ahead and change it for you. Don't try to help, okay?"

"Gown?" he breathed out, his brain now picking up on the fact that he was no longer in his scrubs. Thinking about it made him realize that his legs were cold beneath the thin blanket...and that even though it had been hours since his last trip to the restroom, he didn't at all feel like he had to relieve himself. That meant...

"Shit," he groaned, even more disgusted with himself than he had been before. A thought occurred to him that maybe it was better when he _had_ just woken up from the coma, because at least then his brain had been so off kilter that his limited rationale didn't give him the benefit of such realizations. All he wanted now was for this horrible day to be over, and not to have to worry about it again for another two weeks.

Brandon didn't ask how many seizures he'd had in between times of lucidity. Instead, as each time he woke up feeling gradually more and more tired, all he would ask for was the time. The day seemed to drag on forever despite his only being conscious for mere moments throughout, and even though the pain in his head lessened more and more as night drew nearer, every muscle in his body was screaming in protest at the constant abuse. It was almost as if he had just decided to do a day-long, strenuous PT session in his sleep, and was forced to suffer the consequences of that in his brief moments of wakefulness. His injured shoulder, in particular, demanded his attention almost as much as the lightening going through his brain did, and what little the doctor could give him to help cut the pain wasn't doing a whole lot.

At the moment he was curled back onto his side, shivering slightly despite the extra blankets that had been added to his bed. For the first time that day it seemed he had woken up to find himself without company, and not having come right on the heels of one of his attacks, he actually felt just a little less drained, though still not at all rested. He had probably been able to get through a few hours' sleep without interruption, which would have been great if it weren't for the fact that the _reason _he had woken up was because he'd had his first flashback nightmare since coming out of his coma.

Attributing it to the fact that all day long people had had their hands on him when he was unable to fend for himself, and the gown that kept exposing him as he'd thrashed around on the bed, plus the pain and darkness and having been aware of a few seconds here and there where he'd heard himself crying out, it was all just too much sensory overload. There were too many triggers involved, too many terrifying moments that he couldn't ignore even when he'd only been semi-conscious, that throwing him back into Lonnie's hands had been pretty much inevitable.

Feeling incredibly alone and frightened, coming out of his dark past to his still-dark present, he struggled with a determination born of necessity to get one of his hands moving. His fingers inched along the mattress in search of the nurse call button, his dismay building when he couldn't find it. He had almost decided to give up on whatever pride and stoicism he had left in favor of letting go of more tears, which it seemed he'd already shed enough of that day, when a welcoming voice came from the doorway.

"Brandon, sweetie, do you need something?" Darlene asked, coming closer. There was a little bit of a rustling sound for a second, then kind of a clunk before she grasped his hand and guided it to where the button was now sitting up next to his pillow. "Sorry, fell down between the guardrail and the mattress. Now, what can I do for you?"

He had to wait a second for her to pull the mouthpiece out, this time not paying any attention to whether he was drooling or not. He'd gone well beyond the state of caring hours ago.

"Call?" he asked, his whispered voice cracking around the one word.

"Cold? You've already got four blankets on, B, but I can probably scrounge up another one."

He shook his head weakly and licked his lips, preparing to try again. "Call? Teva?"

There was a pause for a second before Darlene answered him, probably thinking over the request and the appropriate course of action. "It's pretty late, B. You sure she'll be up?"

"Please?" he simply answered in response, another little shudder going through his body.

"Ugh, you are lucky you are so darn cute when you're sickly. I hope you know that. I'll be back with a commlink for you, but I'll have to sit in while you talk. That way I can tell her when you've officially passed out on her, because you know that's going to happen. Plus, I'll need to put your mouthpiece back in."

He offered her a small smile as a thank you, and waited as patiently as he could for her to return, doing his best to focus on keeping images of Lonnie out of his head. The task was made so much more difficult when he couldn't just open his eyes to the real world around him, especially when he was so tired. Despite his efforts he found himself lightly dozing off, anyway, only to wake with a start as weight was pressed down on his body.

"Just me," Darlene announced. "Wrestled up a thicker blanket for you 'cause you still seemed a little cold. I'm going to call Teva up now, and as soon as I have her on the line I'll put on your earpiece for you, okay?"

His returning nod was barely a twitch, but she seemed to have gotten the message as she gave his hand a squeeze, the one near the call button that he hadn't bothered to move back down. She took it upon herself to tuck it back under the blankets for him while she made the call.

"Teva? Sorry, it's late; I hope you weren't asleep. No, no, he's okay. I think it's pretty much over, actually. Yeah, no, he asked if he could talk to you... Uh huh. Oh, but he's not really _up_ to talking, so you'll have to carry the conversation, and fair warning, he'll probably pass out on you before you get too far. Right. Yep, I'll put him on."

For the second time in twenty four hours, the clinic had called. The now-familiar strains of Darlene's voice over the comm line burned away the remaining buzz from doing tequila shots with Adelle all afternoon. For an old biddy, she sure could hold her liquor.

"Yeah, of course," she told the nurse, and waited while Darlene got Brandon on the line.

Just hearing that Darlene was talking to Teva made him feel a little better, and he began to relax a little as the nurse fitted on the earpiece and gave him the go-ahead to speak.

Knowing his speech was limited with his waning strength, he decided to just cut to the chase and skip the pleasantries. "Angel? Bad dream. Talk, please?"

His greeting was so damn weak she could hardly stand it. Fuck, there he was suffering, and she was letting him go through that _alone_. The guilt almost drowned her in a thick, toxic wave.

"Hi, baby," she forced out. "Of course, let's talk. I'm so sorry you had a nightmare. Well, I'm sorry about this whole thing. I'm sorry you're all fucking fucked up from that injection. Hey-"

"Don't," Brandon said slowly, cutting her off.

"Feel bad?" Teva sighed. "Kind of hard not to, but I'll try. I love you, that's all, and I'm insanely possessive. If I could, I would punch your seizures in the face. Just your seizures though, not you." Rolling over in the bed, she tugged the blankets up a little higher over her head, creating kind of a dark, warm cocoon where it was just her and Bran.

"Anyway," she began, speaking a little quieter as befitted the all-encompassing blanket burrito, "Guess what I did today? Shots. Tequila shots. With Mrs. Reyes. Yes, you heard right. That lady can _drink_. By the time Mr. Reyes came home, he found two very drunk ladies on his couch laughing at a pair of knitting needles. There's a story behind that, I swear. Adelle decided she was going to knit, then she decided that I should _learn_ how to knit. Our first hurdle came about when she discovered she did not have enough dexterity at the moment to actually demonstrate the technique. Our next hurdle came when she discovered I am absolutely shit-terrible at taking direction. So basically, I had a jumble of yarn tied in knots in my lap. That was about the time that Mr. Reyes came home and decided we both needed to sleep it off."

Brandon let himself drift a little as Teva told him about her day, feeling more at ease and warmed up by the sound of her voice than the stack of blankets piled on him could do. He was still listening though, and an airy chuckle escaped him at the mental image of, first of all, Nana drunk on tequila, and secondly, Teva trying to knit. The only way he could see her making actual use of knitting needles was to turn them into weapons.

Teva hesitated for a second, the sudden silence waking him back up more than a blaring alarm could. When her voice came back online he breathed out the tiniest sigh of relief, not wanting to let her go until he was too unconscious for it to matter anymore.

"Baby, you still with me?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered sleepily with a tiny smirk, just happy to be in her 'presence.'

"Okay, just checking," she said before she continued. "I didn't just get drunk today, by the way. I went on a long run and passed this strange little clothing shop. There was a shirt in the window that I think you'd look great in - really unique but, I don't know, _you_ at the same time, kind of like your paintings. I looked at all those; they're really good, B, except you didn't sign any of them. We'll have to fix that when you get home. The _first_ thing I'm going to make you do when you get home, though, is wrap up with me in our blanket burrito. It's not the same with only person, ya know?"

"Mmhmm."

Brandon didn't realize that he had snuggled down just the tiniest bit further beneath his blankets at the mention of their special little burrito, and he found himself having a harder and harder time focusing on what she was saying after that. There was something about a fruit stand and a pineapple, and she mentioned the jar of cherry body paint she'd found. He idly wondered if she'd seen the rest of the kit sitting on the little shelf built into the bottom of the coffee table. He'd only pulled out the one to sample the flavor, and remembered that he'd been surprised by how non-synthetic it actually tasted.

Teva's voice became soothing, nonsensical background noise as he got lost in trying to remember what the other colors were, his ability to think clearly becoming quickly muddied up by his body's desire to sleep. Red was cherry, orange was...orange, yellow was banana, green was melon, blue was, of course, blueberry, purple was grape, and there was brown and white for chocolate and vanilla.

The thoughts mingled with Teva's voice put new dreams in his head, better ones that consisted of adding some flavor to their burrito, making him blissfully unaware of the moment when Darlene very carefully took off the earpiece and apologetically explained that Brandon was off in Wonderland somewhere, looking pleased as punch.

"Thanks, Darlene," Teva told the nurse as the woman came on the line.

"No problem," the other woman said, "Not like I really did anything."

"You let him call me," she replied matter-of-factly. "So thanks for that. I think we both needed it."

"Well, you're welcome, sweetie. Will we be seeing you here tomorrow?" Darlene asked.

"Like usual," Teva grunted.

He slept soundly the rest of the night and into the next morning, the staff being careful not to wake him until he was ready to be up on his own. They knew that despite his need for rest he'd be up before too long, anyway. Even being completely unaware of the time, Brandon was just one of those people who was an early riser. If he happened to miss the first arrival of his visitors and his breakfast though, then that was probably for the best. He could go to Eric's stretch-and-limber session groggy and tired, ready to pass right back out when they were through. That would be the best thing for the patient.

_If_ the patient knew what was good for him and chose to cooperate. Having just started regaining some of his independence, that was a whole different issue entirely.

* * *

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

Coming Home

Chapter Seven

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Brandon was still asleep when she got there in the morning, and rather than risk waking him-after yesterday, he looked like he needed it-she quietly settled into the recliner with her coffee and the small container of oatmeal she'd bought on the way.

Teva was sort of surprised that she'd beaten the Reyeses there, then laughed as she remembered a drunken Adelle looking down at her hands in a very confused, displeased sort of way. She'd muttered, "Work right, old hands!" It was entirely possible that the older woman was still sleeping it off.

She waited quietly for Bran's body to decide it was time to wake, exercising a surprising amount of patience to do so. When sitting absolutely still was no longer an option, Teva pulled up her latest book on her comm and started reading.

Brandon woke slowly, the little aches and pains in his body making themselves known one at a time like an old computer system coming back online. His eyes burned a little beneath the lids, and he was willing to bet they were a little red-rimmed and puffy as was common when a person fell asleep after crying for a long period of time (or in his case, several short periods of time over the course of an entire day). Other than that though, he felt much better than he had the day before, like someone had put a fresh new battery in him instead of just recharging the old one.

Well, a new _mental_ battery, anyway. His body was telling him a slightly different story as he gingerly moved to stretch out his sore limbs, and had to freeze as his shoulder flared up when he tried to raise his arm too much. The short breath he tried to hiss in was interrupted by the stupid mouthpiece he forgot he was still biting down on, and as he very carefully tucked the injured arm back against his body he reached up with his other hand to pull out the offending rubber object.

He dropped it as Teva's voice, soft as it was, greeted him, still managing to startle him in the otherwise quiet room. "Morning, baby."

"_Jesus._ Hi. Sorry, didn't know..." His hand fumbled for the guard that had landed on his chest, leaving a wet spot on his gown. "Gross. Is there a, a cup or something I can put this in?"

He heard her get out of the nearby chair. "Yeah, hold on." Listening closely, he followed her footsteps across the room and back again, coming right up next to the bed. "Okay, go ahead and drop it," she instructed, then set the cup off to the side before she began to straighten out his blankets for him a little bit, probably just trying to find any way that she could be helpful. "Should tell them to turn up the heat in here," she grumbled.

"Nah, normally it's not bad," he shrugged carefully, reaching to still her hands. "My system was just all out of whack yesterday, and you know how IV stuff is always a little cold; plus, no pants. That tends to get a little drafty. It's fine." Letting go with one hand so he could find the button to boost him up more, he tugged on her arm a little bit in begging invitation. "Am I too gross right now for you to sit with me? Be honest. Kinda had a rough day yesterday."

A laugh that he couldn't quite emotionally identify burst out of her, then she freed her hand long enough to lower the guardrail on her side of the bed. Very carefully she crawled up next to him, like jostling him too much might break him.

"Hey, I'm okay, alright?" he assured her. "Just a little sore, and still kind of tired, I guess, but I'm fine."

"You hurt your shoulder," she so diligently pointed out. She'd been watching. Of _course_ she had been. He'd have done the same thing if their roles were reversed, wanting to know about every part that hurt and wishing to take it away.

He shrugged again on his good side like it was no big deal, like _none_ of what had happened the day before had been a big deal. The last thing he wanted was for her to be freaking out about exactly how horrible the whole experience had been for him, knowing he was going to have to do it over and over again every two weeks until either something started working or they gave up. He didn't want her carrying that burden around, that helplessness that came hand in hand with his suffering; that burden was just for him and the medical staff to bear.

"They fixed it...sort of," he said dismissively, then changed the subject. "What time is it? You think there's a chance of me getting breakfast before Eric comes to haul me away? I'm starving."

"Hit the call button," Teva suggested automatically. Darlene was no longer on duty, but someone else was there, she knew. She thought she'd seen Kristi at the nurse's station, as well as the male nurse she still hadn't been properly introduced to. He and Darlene must have traded their usual shifts around for whatever reason. "I'm sure they'll bring you something."

She watched quietly as Brandon found the round call button clipped to his blankets, and pressed the button.

"And it's going on eleven," she finally answered his first question. "Your date with Eric has been moved from its usual time to after lunch to accommodate your rest."

"Damn, really?" Brandon paused thoughtfully then asked, "Do you think I can get out of it entirely?"

In playful admonition, Teva lightly slapped his hand. "Don't even. No, it'd be best for you to go, I think. He has instructions to go easy on you today."

"Thank god," her boyfriend grumbled, low enough that she almost didn't catch it.

Chuckling, Teva laced her fingers with his. "Come on, Eric's a marshmallow puff. You should be grateful we don't live in an alternate universe where _I'm_ a physical therapist."

Groaning dramatically, Brandon tipped his face toward her, and said very seriously, "I'd probably drop dead on the spot. You're way more demanding."

"True," Teva agreed lightly. "I did make you essentially do push-ups with a bullet in your chest while you were slowly asphyxiating. You're welcome, by the way." Her tone was smug, and she was smiling grimly at the memory of that night in the temple, the two of them separated by a laser net, and Teva unable to cross the distance. Brandon had been bleeding onto the floor, drawing pained breaths, and insisting that she leave him there to either die or be arrested. Well, she'd thought, that was just silly, and coerced, begged, and cajoled him upright again.

Snorting lightly, Brandon muttered, "And you're so modest about it too."

"That is one of my more virtuous qualities," Teva concurred, her voice lit with dry, wicked humor.

As he was chuckling quietly, Kristi stepped in the room. "Good morning, sleepyhead," the nurse stated cheerily. "What can I do for you?"

"Breakfast?" he asked hopefully.

"How about lunch?" Kristi countered. "We're kind of long past breakfast, but I can get the kitchen to make your lunch a little early."

"Sounds good," he sighed gratefully, and let his head lean against Teva's shoulder as the nurse's squeaky sneakers left the room.

Teva stroked his dirty hair lightly, carefully, and read another page in her book. With one hand she absently trailed those fingers down to his shoulder, almost casually snagging his chi and beginning to pull it out to the pained area. She kept her touch very light, not wanting to agitate the soreness while she was attempting to make the pain go away.

Brandon relaxed a little more against her, and murmured teasingly, "Have I mentioned how much I love your magic fingers?"

Her lips twitched. "Once or twice, maybe. Never hurts to hear it again though."

"I love your magic fingers," he replied, "And you, of course, but also the magic fingers."

She laughed once, and tipped her head so her cheek rested against his hair. "I love you too," she told him, casually noting the ease with which those words were beginning to flow off of her tongue. It was settling a little more comfortably with her, this idea of loving Brandon, and being in love, and not just knowing she felt that and hoarding it to herself, but expressing it to the object of her affections both non-verbally and aloud. It was starting to feel almost natural to her. And that was the thought that freaked out some little part of her that squeaked in alarm. For now, Teva ruthlessly silenced that little coward living within her. Brandon needed her to be strong for him-she was always being strong, it seemed-so there was no time to indulge her childish fears and squeamishness. She needed to deal with it quietly and alone, because the last thing he needed was another fucking burden dropped in his lap.

As Teva's fingers trailed around his shoulder for a little while, then further down his arm, Brandon found himself slumping further and further against her shoulder. It occurred to him that maybe he should start keeping track of how many times she did her little magic fingers trick for him so that maybe when - _if_ - ever he found a way to return the favor, he could 'pay off the debt,' so to speak.

"Baby," she called quietly into his ear, bringing him back to awareness. He realized he must have actually dozed off again for a little bit, because her hand had shifted over to his other arm at some point that he couldn't recall, and there wasn't as much tightness in his chest either. Yeah, he _really_ owed her for all the feel-good magic.

"Hmm?" he asked, raising himself up a little bit.

"Kristi's back with your lunch. Looks like Peters okayed your mac 'n cheese a few days early. He must've felt bad for you."

Brandon sat up the rest of the way and smelled the food as Kristi brought it closer. "Oh my god, angel, baby, you are going to need to move so I can eat this. There also may or may not be an embarrassing savor moment in my very near future."

Kristi laughed as Teva snorted and slid off the bed. "Do _not_ get between a man and his mac 'n cheese," she teased, and set up the tray for Brandon before he could get the chance to reach for it himself. He didn't argue it, knowing everyone was probably going to keep him on restricted movement for the rest of the day, and that was fine with him. Even with Teva's handiwork he was still a bit sore up top, and she hadn't touched anything below his upper body. All of that, plus his back, sort of felt like one big, tight knot, and he kind of wondered if whatever Eric had planned for him would make that better or worse.

His hands sought out the bowl eagerly as his food was set in front of him, finding it only a second before it was pulled away from his touch. "Hey!" he protested, knowing damn well who the culprit was.

"Just making sure it's cool enough for you," Teva teased back, with an added, "Mmmmmm, so good. Maybe I'll just keep it for myself."

"Come on, angel," he whined, "you aren't going to make me fight for it, are you?"

A smile crossed his face as he heard the bowl settle back on the tray. "No, I'm not going to make you fight for it. You'd lose, and then I'd have to feel bad. Now open up like a big boy. Here comes the airplane!"

He laughed at that, but did as told. If she wanted to feed him, that was perfectly okay. Less work for him, plus she was kind of being adorable. It wasn't meant to be condescending at all, he knew, just a sweet way to lighten up the mood. And _my god, _the kitchen cook really _did_ make some great mac 'n cheese!

Maybe post-treatment side effect day wouldn't be so bad, after all, if the following day always started so good.

The Reyeses showed up during lunch time. Mr. Reyes shot Teva a mock-glare, and said by way of greeting, "My wife's hangover has finally abated."

Brandon almost choked on his mac 'n cheese as he laughed.

Mrs. Reyes sighed, and shook her head. "He has been alternating between laughing at me and shaking his head in disappointment all morning. Like I didn't scoop him off the floor six months ago after his friends from the plant decided to have their fish fry a little later in the day than usual."

"It was happy hour," her husband grumbled defensively. "Half price beer and shots. What was I going to do? Refuse my friends' gifts? Dhammas." Carl shook his finger at his wife in mock seriousness.

She snorted rudely, lowering herself into her usual chair at the table. "_Dhammas_. More like 'free booze'."

Teva's gaze shifted back and forth, and she started laughing at them both.

Sometime later, after Kristi had cleared away the remnants of Brandon's lunch, and Teva had slipped back up on the bed with Brandon, Doctor Peters walked into the room with his hands full of a few papers. "Good afternoon, everyone. Brandon, it's nice to see you up."

"Feeling pretty damn good after lunch today," Brandon replied, smiling aimlessly. "Thanks for the mac 'n cheese, doc."

"Not a problem," Doctor Peters replied, shuffling a few papers out of the folder. "And I have those documents we talked about yesterday. I had some drafted up for the Reyeses too, though we didn't really discuss that beforehand. If you feel that was too presumptive, I'll have them shredded. They're not valid without a signature anyway, but just to be safe..."

"No, no," Brandon said hurriedly. "That's great. Thank you for doing that." He waved a hand. "Bring 'em here, and I'll sign for you."

"Papers for what?" Teva asked quietly.

"So the medical staff can talk to you guys about what's going on; that sort of thing," he replied as the doctor came closer, fishing a pen out, and pressing the clicker with his thumb.

"Okay, Brandon," Peters began, laying the thick folder on her boyfriend's lap, and pushing the pen into his hand. "I'll point the pen on the line, then you go ahead and sign." Bran nodded a little, and relaxed his muscles so that the doctor could guide his hand to the correct spot without resistance. Once Peters released him, he went ahead and scribbled his signature. It sloped up a little, gradually climbing out of the signature box and onto the rest of the form. "Great," Peters said. "One more. Let me just flip to the other form. This one's for Teva."

The doctor shuffled the pages around, sliding one triplicate form underneath the other to reveal the unsigned paper. "Right here, on the 'x'," Peters murmured, guiding Bran's hand once more to the correct placement. Again, Brandon scrawled his signature on the paper, this time declining gently into the fine print on the bottom. "Alright, we're good to go," the doctor stated, sliding the papers off of Brandon's lap, and taking the pen back. "We will get these on your e-chart and store the hard copies."

"Now, if you wouldn't mind going into the waiting room for a second," Peters turned to the rest of them, "I'd like to take Brandon's catheter out-"

Teva hissed, and patted her boyfriend's hand. "Fun times."

"Yeah, right," he drawled sarcastically.

"And while we're at it, we'll get you into some real clothes, with pants and everything. By that time, we'll have the healer here for another session on your shoulder, and then Eric should have arrived to collect you for PT."

"I'm thrilled," Brandon stated, "Absolutely ecstatic." His tone was as dry as the desert.

Teva squeezed his hand a little to let him know non-verbally that she'd be there the whole time.

"Oh, relax," Peters shot back as the Reyeses began to get back up. "He's going to fix your sore muscles today."

Slowly, they all filed out of the room, Teva with a quick kiss on Bran's cheek. "I'll be right back."

"I don't think I know your name," Brandon said by way of keeping himself occupied during the healing. He still hated that.

The male nurse had been in and out before, Brandon knew, just like he knew there were a few more folks outside of this guy and Mattie who had worked on him in shifts off the clock while he had been sleeping. If he had the chance, he wanted to thank as many of them in person as he could, knowing that he had woken up completely free of pain and visible scars because of them.

"Aaron," the man answered as he finished up, and reached down to shake Brandon's hand. "I'm on a rotating schedule between departments. That's why you only get my company every few weeks or so. Good to see you doing better, by the way."

His voice was a little deeper, his accent a little, well, Compton if Brandon had to place it. It didn't necessarily mean the man was of dark skin, but experience had already planted that image in his brain, and he certainly wasn't going to ask the man. Skin color wasn't much of an issue anymore, not like it had been in the old times. People nowadays were more concerned about race, and even that was fading with time. For Brandon, none of it really mattered at all anymore. Everyone was just a voice, a touch, a few footsteps, a laugh, a unique way of breathing, a shadowed movement if the light was just right. He had to make up images in his head for the people he hadn't met before his blindness, kind of like picturing characters from a book. It made him wonder what kind of shock he'd get when he could actually see them for real, if what his imagination had created was anywhere close to the real deal.

He hoped he'd get the option to test that someday.

"Thanks, man," he replied as he tested the mobility of his arm. Between what Teva had done and Aaron's healing it felt a lot better, still a little tight, but the pain had lessened tremendously. That put him at ease a lot more in regards to his PT for the day, which he was just about ready for.

As soon as Peters and Aaron got Brandon dressed in just his simple scrubs and booties, they did most of the work in getting him into his chair and out into the hall where they met back up with Brandon's 'family' and Eric. They were laughing about something, probably one of Eric's odd jokes, so Brandon disregarded it as something he'd probably already heard before. Eric had told him pretty much everything in his joke vault during the days when Brandon had been more down, some of them actually managing to elicit a smile despite the heavy depression.

"There you are, champ. Heard you decided to do a little working out on your own yesterday," the troll greeted.

Brandon smirked. "Yeah. At risk of you getting all swelled-head on me, I think I like your sessions a lot better."

Eric laughed as he moved behind the chair, taking over for Aaron. Peters reminded the trainer once more about the need to take things light, to which the troll snorted. As they moved down the hall, he said under his breath. "I've been working with that man for five years now, and he _still_ thinks he needs to tell me how to do my job. You want to see a swelled head? His is the size of a hot air balloon, and probably just as full of the same fuel."

Both Brandon _and_ Teva had to stifle a laugh at the good-natured jab, her walking right beside the chair with her hand resting on Brandon's arm. If the Reyeses had heard the comment from where they were trailing behind the trio, they kept their amusement to themselves. In truth, no one questioned Peters' abilities as a doctor. There were definite times in the past when Brandon had gone rounds with the man, but with this, with such a serious condition, the doc had been nothing short of fantastic. Brandon could only hope to find somebody _half_ as good once he left the city.

PT, as it turned out, was not going nearly as badly as Brandon had feared. Skipping the parallel bars entirely, it mostly involved him lying down on the mat while Eric pushed and pulled him in various directions, stretching everything out while also digging his fingers into the muscles to work out a lot of the kinks. It was kind of an odd combination between yoga with a spotter and a massage, and even though the initial pull from the stretches hurt a little bit, once that faded it actually felt pretty damn good. He wondered aloud where Eric had learned it from, to which the troll simply answered cryptically that he'd done a lot of traveling in his youth.

That meant it was just one more little thing, an extra little trick from a great trainer that Brandon would be leaving behind when he went home with Teva. It made him a little sad, and more than a little concerned about his future care, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He'd already made the decision to go back with her when he was able, to step away from his old life and allow her to live hers as close as she possibly could to 'normal' while she gained the added burden of having to help take care of him.

"Teva," Eric called quietly.

She bounced over to the mat within seconds, as in literally bounced because Brandon could hear it in her steps, bringing a smile to his lips. It meant she was in a good mood, much better than the obvious worry that had been coming off her in waves earlier that morning. "Yeah?"

The troll lowered his voice a little bit, as if speaking secrets. "If you're going to be hanging around Turbo here, this might be something you want to learn. It should work well with your added touch."

Brandon coughed in surprise, genuinely wondering if Eric couldn't read minds. The guy had just nailed his most recent concern _and_ somehow knew about Teva's magic fingers. It made Brandon wonder if maybe _all_ trolls had some sort of crazy Zen center, power thing going on.

"My touch?" Teva asked, clearly just as confused as Brandon was. They hadn't exactly advertised it.

Eric pulled up gently on Brandon's bad arm, easily working the ball around in the joint. "Like I said, five years. Peters doesn't allow for this level of healing from the staff, and he told me there were only two sessions. This level of pain-free mobility means someone else helped him out, and the only other person who touches him long enough to accomplish this is you. Am I wrong?"

If Brandon could've shared a look with Teva, he would've right then. Eric was apparently a hell of a lot more intelligent than he sometimes let on, and had probably also learned a lot more about healing techniques during his youthful travels than most people knew about. He'd clearly seen how magic like Teva's worked before, but just didn't possess it himself. That was too bad. The man would've put it to good use.

"No, no, you're not wrong," Teva finally answered as she sat down beside them on the floor. "Um, so what do I do?"

As Eric took her through the stretches, Teva could actually see how they would work to relieve muscle soreness, and he seemed to know instinctively which spots Brandon needed them to dig into. Curious, she opened herself up to her special talent, seeing just how closely Eric's instructions to "okay, now massage right here...a little more assertively, trust me, this'll feel fine...not quite that assertive" paralleled the areas that drew her the most.

When the session was finally over, she looked up (and up) at the troll, and said sincerely, "Thank you for teaching me."

He smiled, flashing large teeth and pointed fangs, and for a second she missed Madden and her home so much that it was painful. "Not a problem," Eric replied, settling Brandon in his wheelchair again. "I just want to make sure my patient's properly taken care of even past check-out."

After that it was time for a shower, and Teva handled it like the day before, only without all the sex afterwards. In fact, she was downright professional, talking quietly and casually with Brandon as she soaped him up with his own products, and rinsed him off again. They skipped shaving that day in lieu of a haircut. Combing her fingers through the wet length, she decided, "I'm going to clip it a little bit shorter than it was when we first met, okay? It won't need quite as much upkeep."

Brandon ran his fingers through his hair as well, then asked suspiciously, "How short?"

"A little longer on top, probably leave it around two and half inches, and tight at your nape. I picked up a trimmer yesterday," Teva explained.

"Yeah, okay. Do it," he replied after a thoughtful pause. "Not like I can see it."

"That's the spirit," she chirped. "And don't forget that it's just hair. It grows back at a fairly regular rate."

Then it was back in bed, where Brandon fell asleep almost immediately.

The rest of the week was fairly normal, or what passed for normal now. The Reyeses still came regularly, though they stayed a little less now, slowly drifting back toward their own routine now that Teva was there. Brandon went back to doing his PT in the morning, and gradually got fed more solid food as his body adjusted. Sometimes they went for walks outside as long as the staff gave the okay.

Teva developed a routine too, getting back to working out regularly so that when she went back to work, she wouldn't be too out of shape. It made her arrive a little later in the morning, but Brandon didn't seem to mind. In fact, he kind of selflessly encouraged it. "I understand how important it is for you to keep your body trained. That's what you make your living off of." He patted her hand, and then slid his palm up her arm, which was planted behind her on the mattress, keeping her upright, until he cupped her cheek. Then Brandon leaned in, and kissed her. "I get it, really. It's okay. Eight in the morning, ten in the morning... Doesn't matter the time, so long as you come," he murmured.

"And I always do...eventually," she agreed with a little laugh.

Then before they knew it, it was time for another light test.

"Okay, now, Brandon. Are you listening?" Doctor Peters asked, his voice very serious, almost in a scolding teacher kind of way.

Brandon raised his eyebrows up in a coincidentally annoyed, impatient teenager kind of way. "What do you want? Eye contact? _Yes_, I'm listening."

He was too, but he was also being a little standoffish and he knew it. It was defense mechanism time again, using an almost bored, irritable attitude to fend off his growing concern. Peters had told them last time that if there was any improvement, odds were good that he'd make a better, faster recovery. He didn't necessarily say that no improvement at all would mean Brandon would stay blind forever, but he couldn't help but take it that way. After having gone through Seizure Day: The Premiere, the thought that it had all maybe been for nothing weighed on him heavily, and he wasn't exactly trying to hide it from anyone.

Teva, who was on the opposite side of the bed from the doc, put her hand over his and locked their fingers together. She didn't say anything, but he knew the reassuring gesture for what it was, along with the extra hard squeeze that was essentially telling him to behave.

Peters continued with what he was saying. "I'm putting on your glasses now. We're going to do it just like last time, only there'll be one thing that's different. Do you know what that is?"

With a sigh, and maybe an eye roll behind the glasses that had just been slipped on, Brandon mumbled, "I'm not going to take my glasses off. Are you happy?"

"Good boy. Now, Teva, if you'd take your position, we'll get this thing started."

As she let go, she gave his hand one more pat before stepping away, and after a warning from the doctor the world lit up for Brandon again. He had to admit, he really kind of enjoyed that part no matter how nervous he was about whether he could see Teva's form or not. Everything was always different shades of dark for him, slightly tinted here and there depending on the light he found himself in and whether it was natural or artificial. The sunlamp was like stepping out of a dark cave straight up into Heaven, bright all around and comfortably warm, like he was just relaxing inside a cloud. All he had to do was poke his head out and he'd be able to see again, simple as that.

Except not. He turned his head slightly back and forth, thinking maybe he _might_ be able to see Teva's shadowed form a little bit, but still as nothing more than a small portion of the white light that seemed just the tiniest bit dimmer than the rest. "Can you move or something?" he asked, desperate to latch onto anything.

"Go ahead, one arm just like before," Peters encouraged.

Again, Brandon could see the actual movement easily enough, a wave passing through the light almost like a snake moving beneath a white sheet. There might've been some form to it, maybe, if he concentrated hard enough, but he just couldn't be sure. With Teva's next movement, bigger this time as she stepped side to side, he let out a little frustrated growl.

"How do I know if this is actually better or if I just _think_ it's better?" he snapped.

"Do you think there's a slight difference?" Peters asked.

Brandon threw up his arms. "I don't know! I just asked that! There might be, but-"

"Then you hang onto that," the doc answered. "The mind is a very powerful thing, son. If you believe you see a difference, then you tell yourself there is and _keep_ telling yourself there is. You'd be surprised how well that works. And yes, I'm aware of how hokey that sounds, but we see it all the time in placebo tests. People can and do will themselves to get better. Now focus."

Taking in a deep breath, Brandon kept his eyes trained on where the movement was. He supposed it was worth a shot, letting himself think he could see her at least in some way as Peters made her take a much bigger step from one side of the light beam to the other. Brandon was able to jerkily follow her path, doing better at identifying when the light suddenly got brighter again as she passed through it more than actually locking on to any sort of solid shadow form. They kept at that exercise until he figured out her pacing, imaging where she would be so he could trace her theoretical movement instead of actually trying to force himself to see it. Forming the image of her in his mind, seeing her perfectly in those tiny little shorts and maybe a sky blue tank with little smiling boxing gloves or something, on the last round he smirked a little as his eyes shifted smoothly back and forth along with her steps.

"Baby, can you see me?" Teva suddenly asked.

It broke him out of his little daydream, sending him back into his warm, white cloud. She had stopped moving, making her essentially disappear, which caused the tiny grin to fall from his face.

"No, no, I just...got the pattern down, that's all."

The light turned off, making the world fade back into the normal gray. He heard Peters approaching, so he waited patiently until the doctor removed the glasses for him, showing what a good boy he could be.

"You saw her in your head then, correct?" the doc asked.

Brandon blushed a little. "Yeah, just a...it wasn't real."

"Was it vivid?" Peters continued.

"Yes, but-"

"Do you understand what part of your brain is damaged, Brandon?"

The whole interrupting, asking vague questions thing was getting annoying, eliciting yet another irritated sigh from Brandon. "Is there a point to this, doc, or do you just like fucking with me?"

The mattress dipped back down on the other side again as Teva took up her self-assigned position. "Hey, let him talk," she ordered, not really sounding angry at all, but like she could be if he didn't play nice.

"The point," Peters continued, "is that you can't see because your mind can't process the information that the eyes are sending to it. It can't properly form the images into something tangible. What you just did, Brandon, was force an image to form anyway using the information you _could_ gather visually and filling in the blanks with images stored in your memory. You worked around the damage and _made_ yourself see something."

Brandon understood what the doc was getting at, but he was still having a hard time wrapping his logic around it. "It's still just a dream, not real, not..._right_."

"Not yet. You keep at it though, and maybe you can train the signals to reroute themselves to an area of your brain that _can _interpret them. There's a lot of unused potential in there, you know." Peters tapped him lightly on the side of the head for emphasis. "You'd be amazed at how well that pile of grey matter can adapt. I think just maybe between what we're fixing with the cell treatment and your ability to combine real images with imagined ones, we might just be able to fix this, after all. At least somewhat, I'd wager."

He couldn't help it. Brandon felt that spark of hope ignite in him all over again, spreading quickly like a wildfire. He was going to see again. Maybe not as well as before, but if he just worked at like Eric made him work his body every day, one day he'd be stepping out of that cave, out of that cloud, and back into the world again.

"It's going to work," he muttered to himself, then threw his arms around Teva's waist a second later. "It's going to work, angel!"

Teva hugged him back just as hard, but shot the doctor a discreet glance, a question in her eyes. She didn't really like that the doctor was inadvertently promising things to Brandon, because if he couldn't deliver, Bran would be crushed. He wanted to see again so badly, and the disappointment from that... Well, combined with Brandon's history of depression, she couldn't imagine that he would react well if he discovered that he wouldn't see after all.

Dr. Peters pursed his lips, and very carefully shook his head, then directed his gaze outside and mouthed 'later.'

Rolling hers, she none the less tipped her chin slightly in a subtle nod.

It was unfair of them to take advantage of Bran not being able to see like that, but she had a feeling it was for good reason. Teva knew that Peters normally would never do such a thing.

Eventually, Peters bid them adieu, and left to continue his patient visits.

"Hey, gorgeous, I'm gonna go have a smoke outside, okay?" she informed Brandon, which was a thing she did periodically during the day so it wouldn't be weird at all.

"Yeah, that's fine," Brandon agreed. "I'm just going to write for a little bit. Take your time."

Slipping outside, she met Peters on the stoop and lit up. "What the hell, doc?" Teva cut to the chase, her voice rough and bordering on hostile.

"I know, I know," the doctor sighed. "I realized my mistake as soon as I said it. I should have worded it more carefully, you're right. However, I can't bring myself to truly regret it. He needs hope, Teva. The mind is a powerful tool. If he thinks he can do it, his chances of actually recovering increase."

Teva flicked a small cylinder of ash away on the wind, and eyed the doctor skeptically.

"And please remain positive around him. If he thinks you don't buy it, he's not going to believe it either," Peters wrapped up his plea.

"Yeah," Teva sighed. "Okay, I get that. Placebo effect."

"Exactly," the doctor straightened and turned to go back inside. "Remember, your presence influences him quite a bit. Before you arrived, he was quite depressed. Just being around you has helped improve not only his mood, but also his recovery rate. If you stay positive, he'll stay positive."

Nodding, she met the doctor's level gaze and drawled, "Alright, alright. I mean, I'm trying. I agree he is improving. I just don't want to be the one scooping him up off the floor if he _can't_ see, and gets depressed, and does something...harmful to himself."

With a sympathetic glance, Peters' face, aged beyond its years by watching the sadness and suffering of others, turned even more serious than before. "You chose a difficult person to love."

"Yeah," Teva agreed, dropping her eyes to the sidewalk, and smoking pensively.

"And you're right to be concerned. He's always going to have that potential in him," Peters informed her coolly.

"I know that."

"I'll leave some literature at the desk for you that you can read about warning signs," the doctor told her, and stepped back inside.

He was long gone when Teva glanced up at the sky, thinking to herself that she was grateful she could see the sky to discern the exact shade of blue it was in the moment-aqua; it was very bright and sunny out that day-and murmured, "Thanks." It never hurt to learn a little more.

* * *

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

Coming Home

Chapter Eight

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Brandon was in pretty high spirits for the rest of that day, the rest of the next _several_ days, in fact. He joked with the nurses, wanted to stay out of bed more and more so he could be a participating part of his environment instead of just existing in it, and made a point to be more sociable with the staff that he hadn't really taken the time to get to know before.

When pool day came around again he was actually pretty excited about going, remembering how liberating his first experience had been, and not at all feeling the trepidation from before. It helped that after those couple weeks of PT, he definitely felt a little stronger, which meant in his own mind he didn't picture himself as being quite such a sickly stickman this time around. It was just an illusion, of course; the rate of his muscle growth coming along much too slow for there to be a super noticeable difference in his appearance, but he didn't care. It was _his_ mental image, and since no one could exactly plunk a mirror down in front of him to prove him wrong, he could alter up his self-image just as easily as changing his persona in the Matrix. Not that he was really going overboard with it anyway. At the moment he was settling for the little things. 'I've been outside more lately so there's some color back in my skin. I can take four somewhat solid steps on the bars, so _hey_, welcome back calf muscles and thighs! I can actually _do_ sit-ups. Where the hell have you been, abs? My arms have taken the brunt of all the work the rest of me couldn't do, so I've got to have at least a couple peashooter barrels up there now.' Not much, but still better than skeleton man.

"You're coming in this time, right?" he asked as Teva helped him into his swim trunks. He had gotten a little better at that too, but was still pretty much unable to balance himself enough to get his feet into the leg holes. Once that part was done and the clothing pulled up enough to where he could reach, he could pretty much handle the rest on his own. It was a little awkward, and required him gripping something or someone with one hand while he worked the waistband up with the other, but still, every little thing he could do for himself was one _less_ thing someone else had to do for him.

"I might have brought my suit just in case," Teva answered, serving as his prop for a minute until he was ready for her to help him into his sweats.

Brandon smiled. "What's it look like? Something new, or is it the one we picked out for the beach that one time? I remember you looked _really_ good in that one."

"And _I_ remember that I looked really good _sunbathing_ in that one, but it's not really laps-in-a-pool practical. I got something a little less _risqué_ so I don't give any of those old men a heart attack."

He barked out a little laugh at that. "Okay, then what - no, wait, I changed my mind. Don't tell me what it looks like. I'll figure it out by _touch_ when you're in the pool."

"If you can catch me," she teased. "But none of that is going to happen if you don't let me get your pants on you first."

"Right," he nodded, and let her do her thing.

Eric had taken him to the bars after that, as expected, where Brandon took his four steps. They both agreed that maybe he could shoot for his fifth the next day before he took the rest of the day off for his token rest/recoup period. Brandon continued not to ask how many steps it would take before he was home free, not wanting to be discouraged by a number that might seem like a ten mile, uphill hike to him.

The Reyeses were there for his 'walk' as they always were, supportive as ever, and this time Brandon thought to invite them to the pool. With a little extra pressure from Eric and Teva, the elderly couple decided they might enjoy a little leisurely dip as well, so they went home to get their things.

"Maybe they'll go join in on that dance class," Brandon joked once they were gone.

"Ooh," Eric seemed to wince as he got Brandon up into the van. "Forgot to mention that. The pool changed up the schedule a little bit on me at the last minute. They've got a group of kids coming in, just a small one; quarterly field trip for the foster center or something. They'll be over on the other side of the divider where the dance class was, so they shouldn't interfere with anything."

Both Eric and Teva were really quiet after that, almost like they were holding their breaths. Brandon simply shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and answered "okay" as he got his own seatbelt buckled. Kids he didn't have much of a problem with. If you put one in his lap he wouldn't really know what to do with it, considering he hadn't had anything _close_ to a normal childhood, but he never really minded their company either. Foster kids, in particular, he could connect with on at least some sort of similar level. They didn't know what it was like to grow up in normal, happy homes either, which tended to make them a little mature for their age, and mature was good when it came to kids. Brandon wasn't really fond of the ones who screamed and cried over not getting a piece of candy or something. There were far more severe circumstances that could cause crying and screaming...

"Baby, you okay?" Teva asked.

He gave her a big smile, wiping away what must have been a dark look creeping into his eyes, given the subject matter he had just been slipping into. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just zoned out for a second. Are we going to get this thing moving or what? I want my free time, Eric."

"We're going, we're going," the troll laughed as he hopped up into the driver's seat and started up the rig. "Maybe next time I'll just leave your chair loose to bang around back there against your seat. Is that what you want?"

"Yes. Then maybe it'll break and I can replace it with a scooter. Cobalt blue, please."

Brandon imagined the trainer was probably shaking his head at him as he mumbled "smartass" under his breath, but purposely loud enough for Brandon to hear. Either that or his hearing was improving a little bit since he now depended on that in lieu of his missing sight. He did find that he could pinpoint location by sound a lot better than he'd been able to when he'd first discovered his disability.

That'd probably make him an _awesome_ Marco Polo player. He smiled to himself at the thought as they drove along in peaceful silence to the pool.

The pungent smell of chlorine made Teva wrinkle her nose before they even opened the doors to the pool. She'd stop noticing it in a few minutes, but at first it was always too much and made her head hurt behind her right eye. Grinning, she tapped Brandon on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go change, B," she said, and bounded off for the locker room. Despite the stench, she really did enjoy swimming.

She hadn't lied when she'd told Brandon her swimsuit was much more conservative than the one she'd worn for their day at the beach. It wasn't like she was going to get any sun inside the pool room, and since she'd figured there were a ton of conservative, old people nearby, Teva had bought a new one-piece. Navy blue with shirring around her midsection, and thin, lime green straps that were echoed with lime green piping a few inches below the contoured edge of the top. It was the most coverage she'd ever had from a swimsuit.

Shoving her things back into her bag, and stuffing it in a locker, Teva zipped through the showers and headed out into the pool area.

As promised, there were children in there today having a free swim in the shallow end of the pool. Mr. and Mrs. Reyes were already in the pool, as well as Brandon and Eric. They were just beginning to go through Bran's exercises. She padded over to the deep end, a few feet away from where everyone else was lurking, on the opposite end so she wouldn't get in the way. Teva stepped up to the competition platforms, and dove smoothly into the 12 foot end, pulling herself through the water in a smooth, easy breaststroke, and somersaulting off the wall to come back for the lap. She came up for air, then went back down, repeating that procedure several times until she'd made it an even ten times across both ways.

She came up, floating on her back, and called to Eric and Brandon, "By the way, have I mentioned I'm thankful for being invited swimming? Fun stuff."

"Yes, thank you, boys, it's been much too long since Tata and I enjoyed the pool," Mrs. Reyes answered.

Brandon laughed at that as Eric was supporting him with just one hand under his back, guiding him as he kicked through the water. "You said thanks three times already, Nana," he pointed out.

"And I might even say it again," she responded. "This is a rare opportunity, enjoying the water without fear of bumping into anyone."

"Or being bumped into," her husband pointed out gruffly. Brandon couldn't blame him. The pool was annoying enough in the summer for the _young_ folks to enjoy, and it was easier for them to maneuver through the crowds of people trying to escape the heat. The elderly, who tended to be slower and just wanted to enjoy that lack of gravity on their aged bodies like Brandon was currently doing, didn't stand much of a chance against the raucous summer pool-goers.

Eric gave him a little warning that they were about to move on to the next thing, so Brandon stopped his kicking and let the troll pull him to where he could stand with his feet flat on the ground, the water coming up to just under his chin.

"Just stand and use your arms for balance," Eric instructed.

This was just a balance exercise essentially, plus kind of a little break from anything strenuous while at the same time still slightly working the muscles in his legs that he needed in order to stand on his own. The drill didn't require much focus, especially with the floaties on his arms helping him stay up, so Brandon took that time to start up conversation.

"How old are the kids?" he asked.

"Mmm, different ages, probably from I'd say six to maybe thirteen. Why?"

Brandon smiled. "I was thinking for free time we could maybe let some of the older ones on our side of the divider to play Marco Polo."

There was silence for a moment outside of the general pool noises, then the troll let out one of his deep, rolling laughs. "Are you planning on playing Marco the whole time?"

"No, we'll do house rules. My house. _Nobody_ gets to play with their eyes open," Brandon explained.

Eric laughed again, which must've gotten Teva curious because her voice was suddenly much closer than it had been a minute before. "Am I missing out on a joke? I hate missing out on jokes. It puts me all out of the loop, and I can't have that."

"Brandon wants to play Blind Man's Marco Polo," Eric summed up. "As in, _everybody's_ blind."

"Hm, sounds fun," she replied as she moved away from Brandon's line of touch. He had been inching towards her slowly, trying to catch her so he could get a feel for her bathing suit. "Nope, now that there's a _real_ catch-me challenge, you have to earn it."

"I will," he promised, and turned his attention back to his exercises. He wanted to get them done as quickly as possible so they could get to the game. It'd been a little too long since he'd engaged in any sort of friendly competition, and in the pool with a bunch of people who wouldn't be allowed see any more than he could, he felt like he'd finally be on even ground.

Maybe he'd suggest to the Reyeses to hang out with the younger kids in the shallow end, because everyone on his side of the line was going _down._

Floating in the deep end with the Reyeses, Teva waited until Brandon had finished with his exercises. She was admittedly excited about this game of Blind Man's Marco Polo. It sounded like a fun challenge. Unlike the rest of her, her hearing wasn't any better than the average person. Okay, maybe she was a little hyper-aware in general, but just because the creaking walls of a building sometimes sent her jumping out of a dead sleep, that didn't mean her ability to discern a house settling from quiet footsteps on the floor above was any more enhanced than the average person's. They'd be on even footing, which she imagined was something Bran would enjoy.

Speaking of, he'd been in a good mood the past few days. Not just okay, but genuinely, consistently good. Maybe the doctor was right, and there was something to this whole 'I think I can' approach that he was taking. The improvement in Brandon's mood had certainly coincided with a change in his behavior. He seemed to be taking an active role in engaging with his environment now, and truly living instead of existing in a state of limbo, and just moving when they told him to. He wasn't just _reacting_ anymore, but_ interacting_. That was a good thing, or so Teva thought.

Reviewing the information that Peters had slipped her was certainly insightful. Some of the listed symptoms and side effects of depression had surprised her. Others were all too familiar. However, now that she was armed with the knowledge, she could be on the look-out for backsliding on Brandon's part.

She remained talking with Adelle and Carl quietly until it appeared that exercise time was wrapping up, then she called over, "Is it time for Marco Polo yet?"

Some of the kids had heard Teva's question, and asked what Marco Polo was, eliciting others (Brandon assumed the older ones) to explain the rules. As one of them cried out "I wanna play!" Brandon smiled in Eric's general direction.

"Better get this game going before we have a pool riot," he said by way of asking if exercise time could officially be over.

"I think you might be right. Some of them have some very eager looks on their faces." Eric pulled Brandon towards the shallower end of the pool , and waved over Teva and the Reyeses, then left his patient in their care while he wandered off. Brandon listened as the troll gave the rundown to the kids, some of them responding with delighted comments while others (the younger ones, most likely) seemed upset that they couldn't join in.

"Nana, Tata?" Brandon asked, not quite sure where they were in relation to him.

"Here, mijo," Mrs. Reyes answered from somewhere off to his left.

He turned so he could address them more properly. "Unless you guys really want to play with the rowdy crowd, maybe you could play the normal way with the little ones over there? There's not enough water in that end for me to be functional, and I feel kind of bad that they're not allowed on this side."

"Actually," Mr. Reyes responded, "I was considering doing just that."

An amused little chortle escaped his wife's mouth. "Tata cannot stand to see sad faces on los niños. We'll keep them happy."

Brandon thanked them with a bright smile, which grew even bigger when he heard the kids swarming around. A hand tapped his arm, smaller than what would belong to anyone he knew, and he did his best to look in the child's direction.

"Excuse me, mister; can I be Marco, first? I never got to be Marco before." It was a girl, if he was judging right, and she sounded so eager that he couldn't possibly say no to that.

"Absolutely. Eric explained the rules to everyone, right?"

There was a chorus of affirmative responses, followed by Eric's happily booming threat that he'd play referee and make anyone who cheated do laps. One of the children's chaperones backed up the teasing threat, causing the kids to grumble in mockingly whiny voices, but everyone readily agreed that there'd be no peeking. Once that was taken care of they all formed a loose circle around the girl, Teva assisting Brandon to get into position, and on Eric's count everyone closed their eyes.

"Remember," the troll pointed out before the girl could shout out her first call, "I'm stringing up another divider over here so none of you can get too far into the deep end. If you bump into it, turn around and go back. Nobody swims under the line, or the nice lifeguard up there is going to blow his whistle and stop the game. Got it?"

"Got it!" a chorus of voices rang out, Teva's and Brandon's included.

Brandon moved himself a little closer to her position just before the game officially started, and said softly, "Just so you know, one of these rounds I'm going to let myself get tagged on purpose just so I can come after you. Consider yourself a bright red blip on my radar."

As the count went on, Teva leaned in close to Brandon, running her nose up his wet neck. She inhaled, and breathed against his skin, "Remember, I know your scent."

Brandon smirked and replied, "Chlorine."

With a thoughtful frown, she admitted, "A challenge, but not necessarily a complete block."

The countdown was concluded, and Teva began to slowly drift away, listening for splashes and trying valiantly not to run over any little kids.

"Marco!" the girl shouted.

"Polo!" everyone chorused back.

It was harder with her eyes closed. She wanted to open them up, to see where she was going. It was instinctive, the need to confirm what she was hearing with what was actually going on. During the course of that game, Teva bumped into three different people. At least she thought it was three different people. For all she knew, it might've been the same person each time.

There was a squeal as the little girl acting as Marco for that round pounced on someone, dunking them under the water momentarily before releasing them.

The roughness of one of the boundary ropes brushed Teva's shoulder.

"Teva, watch the line," Eric shouted, the humor evident in his voice.

She almost raised her hand to flip Eric off, but remembered at the last second the kids in the shallow end whose eyes were wide open. For their sake, Teva refrained, then gritted her teeth as Brandon laughed. She stuck out her tongue instead, knowing that nobody would see it except for Eric and the people in the shallow end, but feeling satisfied with the childish gesture anyway.

He couldn't help but to laugh; not that he hadn't also found himself too close to other bodies or the wall thus far, but he liked to think that maybe in this particular instance he had a slight advantage. He was used to reaching out with his hands by now, physically having to feel for where his personal boundaries were instead of depending on his sight. Not that he was by any means an expert; he hadn't been living in his dark world quite long enough for that yet, plus the fact that he'd been mostly immobile for a good portion of that time meant he hadn't had a chance to practice actually getting around blind by himself. In their small space in the pool though, where he could hear where people were by their voices, their splashes, their laughter, and by using the feel of the sloped ground beneath his feet to determine which side of the pool he was hanging around in, he was doing okay with navigating around.

The new caller released his first "Marco!" scream, and Brandon found that he wasn't really anywhere where he was in danger of being caught. He was getting a little too close to the kiddie end barrier though, as the shouts from their game were starting to interfere with the ones from his. Knowing he was in the clear for the time being, he stopped for a second to re-establish his bearings. The kiddie end was behind him, Eric had just yelled at Teva for getting too close to the other barrier at the deep end, which was somewhere off to his left because he'd just heard her call out from a distance at around his ten o'clock position, and the current Marco was at about the same distance away from him as she was, close to the one o'clock mark. There was some other kid splashing off to his right, so he chose to move somewhat in Teva's direction. It seemed safe enough, and he wasn't quite ready to be 'caught' just yet.

Staying low in the water, crouched so it almost hit her lower lip, she started moving away from the newest Marco's voice, calling out "Polo!" in response. Keeping her body below the surface of the water minimized noise, and her hands held ever so slightly in front of her warned her of incoming obstacles. Some, anyway, unless the children were bumping into her.

Teva had a feeling that Brandon had probably enabled phase one of Operation: Get Teva, she took a cautious sniff, but all she could smell were chemicals. She'd have to be right on top of her boyfriend to get a bead on him. Dammit. He'd been right. Her skills were about as useful as an umbrella in a hurricane.

It wasn't long before another of the kids got tagged, and Brandon did his best to keep away from him while he sought out Eric. It took him a little bit, but eventually he felt his fingers brush up against the troll's broad back.

"Hey, doin' okay, sport?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, just looking for a time check," Brandon asked, even though he was starting to feel a little worn out. He was having fun though, and was reluctant to end the game prematurely just because he was getting tired.

Eric seemed to pick up on it anyway. "Ten minutes, tops, then I think we better call it a day."

Brandon nodded. "You can get a lot done in ten minutes. I need to go get tagged."

He took off towards the children's chaotic squeals as the troll laughed. If he didn't get tagged within this round, he'd get it on the next one, then he was going after Teva. Unless, of course, she got tagged first. Then his goal was just to play keep away until Eric called it quits, after which he'd hunt her down anyway. He still hadn't 'seen' her suit, after all.

It was funny how it seemed to be harder to get tagged than it was to stay away. As he got nearer the current Marco he encountered more kids bumping into him, almost as if they weren't really trying to stay away either. He figured it was due to a subconscious need to flock together, that because they couldn't see they felt more secure in staying in a tighter group despite the fact that it made it easier for their 'attacker' to get at them. Fear was a strong motivator, even if the kids didn't even realize that they were afraid. They were though, afraid of wandering away, getting lost, not being able to see where their friends were, and that fear of being alone in the dark outweighed the fear of being tagged 'it' in an innocent game.

Brandon wondered how bad that fear would hit him once he was out in the world again. At the clinic he knew someone was always close by, that during the day he'd mostly have Teva or Nana and Tata to take care of him. If not them, then Peters, Eric, or any number of the nurses were always around, and he trusted all of them. Once he was out though, he wouldn't have that network of support 24/7. Would that mean he would just hole up in the apartment if no one was there to help him brave the outside? Or would he just suck it up and figure out how to exist using whatever tools were available to him?

Not that it would matter for too long. He was getting his sight back, after all.

"Polo!" he shouted to the latest call. He was close now, so very close. All he had to do was stand still and...

"Gotcha!" the boy screeched in delight. "I got an adult!"

Brandon laughed at that. "Yes, you did. Now hurry up and run, or I'm going to tag you right back!"

The kid let out a squeaking giggle and splashed away, after which Brandon let a little more time pass by before he shouted his first call. He wanted to give the other kids a chance to move back too, because he didn't want to tag one of them accidentally. That also meant he was giving Teva an opportunity to change her position from the last place he'd heard her call from, but that was fine. He'd have her more or less pinpointed as soon as she opened her mouth anyway.

"Marco!" he let out, and listened very closely as everyone screamed their replies. There was only one voice he was aiming for, and he smiled as it filtered through the rest.

_Ohhhhh noooooooo..._

Brandon's voice rang out, and Teva nearly dunked herself underneath the surface of the pool. He'd done it; he'd gotten tagged.

Even as she called out her response, she knew he was coming for her. Shit.

In between the shout, she started sliding away from her current position, feeling a little bit like the music from that old shark movie _Jaws_ ought to be playing. He was going to head right for her, and dammit, she was competitive enough that she didn't want to get caught, at least not easily.

Her fingertips scraped the rough pool wall.

"Marco!"

"Polo!" Teva added her voice to the chorus distractedly, immediately heading northeast away from where she thought Bran's voice had come from.

Every time Brandon hollered out, he would pause for just a second so he could better focus on the voices coming back to him. Teva was moving away, headed back towards where he hadn't wanted to be: over by the kiddie end. He didn't know whether that was just sheer coincidence or if she was playing it smart, knowing that her voice mixing with the confusion of the game being played out by the screaming younger ones would throw him off. It didn't really matter though, it gave him a direction to head towards, and once he was close enough to hear her more clearly over the children he'd still have her.

"Marco!" he yelled again.

While the kids and Teva shouted back their reply, one of the little ones in the shallow end screamed her "Marco!" right in the middle of it, jumbling up all the sounds. Instead of freaking out about it he decided to use it to his advantage, moving a little faster towards the chaos. If he was a little lost with the confusion of voices, she would probably be more so as she was closer to it. Trying to time it right, he gave out his next shout a little quieter, hoping he would sound further away than he was when mixed in with the squeals of the younger ones.

Focusing ahead, listening for Teva's return call (she was up to the right a little bit, he was close enough now to pull her voice out of the confusion), he could almost picture her clumsily moving along. She'd be searching around for him, swiveling her head side to side in hopes of determining his position, probably getting frustrated with the cacophony of noise she'd found herself in. Her hand probably touched the barrier, and she was traveling along beside it trying to get back towards the deeper end, trying to move fast enough to escape his capture. He could almost see her, the look on her face as she realized he was close because by now she could probably smell him, but she'd penned herself too close to the corner where the barrier met the wall at the "L" that sectioned off the kiddie portion from the rest of the pool. She didn't have time to make it around to the deeper side, and she knew it. Annoyed defeat was written all over her, but she smiled as his hand reached out to tag her shoulder, adorned with the brown and teal strap of her bathing suit...

He froze in place, the very vivid picture he had seen flashing away to nothing. It _had_ been vivid, realistically so, coming through as clear as he knew the pool water to be.

"Your suit," he said abruptly. "Teva, what color is your suit?"

"What?" she asked, clearly confused. He'd been exactly right, she was literally right in front of him. He'd _seen_ her.

"What color is your suit?" he repeated. He knew what color it was. He'd seen it with his own eyes. He just needed the confir-

"Navy blue with green cord," she answered. "Why?"

No. It was brown. Brown and teal. And she'd been smiling. And they were in the corner...

"Where are we?" he continued, reaching out with his right hand, certain that if he moved a little further he'd come across the barrier to the deep end. "Open your eyes and tell me where we are."

There was a hesitation before she answered. "Um...about three quarters up the barrier towards the bend in the pool. Brandon, what-?"

They weren't even _near_ the corner. He'd been completely wrong. She probably hadn't even been smiling.

"Nothing, never mind," he stated, quirking his lips up into a _it doesn't matter, no big deal_ smirk as he reached out and tagged her arm, avoiding touching the suit altogether. "You're it."

He turned and started to head away, wondering how much time was left on his ten minutes. He hoped there wasn't much. He felt really worn out all of a sudden.

They made it through Teva's round of Blind Man's Marco Polo before Eric called a halt to the game. The kids all protested heartily, but Teva opened her eyes and explained to them as kindly as she knew how that they had to get going. The adults climbed out of the pool, Eric helping Brandon to the shallow end, and then scooping him up when he couldn't float himself any farther.

Teva watched her boyfriend worriedly as Eric got Brandon situated in his wheelchair again, and took him into the shower room to hose off the chlorine. Lip between her teeth, she thought to herself about that backslide into depression that she'd warned the doctor was just around the bend. She knew she shouldn't have let that gross overstepping of boundaries slide.

Brandon had been riding high on hope for days now. This downfall when he didn't start recovering right away was the inevitable reaction.

Following Mrs. Reyes into the women's locker room, they both picked a shower head on the south wall, and stood under the hot spray for a moment.

As she was letting the water beat down on her neck, Mrs. Reyes asked quietly, "He's going to get sad again, isn't he?"

"Probably," Teva agreed, turning her face to the spray, and bracing her hands against the tile wall, leaning into it. "Bran's...pretty sensitive. This isn't easy for him, and...well, the other day the doctor said something to him. I think it got his hopes up a little too high."

"Mm," Adelle hummed thoughtfully, and turned to let the water rinse out the front of her floral swim-dress. "You fear he will fall into a depression again."

"Well, yeah," she replied quickly. "It's right there in his history. I mean, I know he's been through so much, and this...well, this is just the fucking cherry, isn't it? But at the same time it's frustrating. Not just for him, but for me too."

"Because you have to watch his suffering."

"Yes."

"And you don't want him to suffer."

"Exactly!" Teva cried, pushing off the wall, and spinning around again to get her hair wet. Her hands formed fists at her sides as she struggled with impotent rage, hot like the confines of the shower room. "Normally when I have a problem, I can _do _something about it. This...I just sit here uselessly and stew."

Turning off her shower, Mrs. Reyes commented softly as she walked away, "Then imagine how he must feel."

The old woman was right, Teva acknowledged while she dried herself off and got dressed again. Neither she nor Brandon were people accustomed to inaction. 'Runners didn't just react, they pre-acted. Merely accepting circumstances as they happened to be forced upon them didn't sit well with either of them. _Fate_ was not a concept they put much faith in.

Meeting everyone else in the lobby, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes said their goodbyes. "We're tired from the swim," Mr. Reyes said, grinning wryly. "When did we get so old?" he added as a rueful aside to his wife.

She chuckled. "Speak for yourself. I could go another ten laps...after a nap."

They all laughed at that good naturedly, though Brandon's seemed a little hollow to her, and parted ways in the parking lot. Teva climbed into the van with Brandon and Eric, and Mr. and Mrs. Reyes headed to the subway station entrance around the corner. She lifted her hand at their retreating backs in a tiny wave, then curled her fingers around Brandon's for the ride back to the clinic.

_It's fine, it's okay, this is good, remember?_ Brandon tried to mentally tell himself on the ride back, feeling tired but not exactly sleepy. His head was too full of circling thoughts, emotions that he was trying to gain some semblance of control over. _Use your vivid imagination to your advantage. Reroute what you're seeing so it can be interpreted somewhere else. She was right in front of you. You had that part right. Maybe you did see some of it, just not a lot of it...or maybe none of it at all. Shit._

And so it continued, going round and round with himself on how he should be reacting to what happened in the pool. Common sense told him it didn't mean anything bad, that he couldn't really _expect_ to see so clearly less than two weeks after his second injection. In fact, he had already told himself it would take a few months, most likely, and he had been fine with that.

He _had_ been fine with that until for that split second he thought that maybe he'd just been blessed with a miracle. It had just been so _real_, and he'd been so sure that he'd actually been able to see for that small moment in time. It was his own fault, really, for letting himself get suckered into believing so wholeheartedly in something that was medically impossible. Therefore, because he knew how ridiculous that had been, it was stupid to let himself get all upset over it. It didn't mean his sight wouldn't come back. It just meant he was still on the original time table he had set for himself.

But, dammit, it still hurt. Logic and emotion never seemed to line up right, and at the moment he was too heartbroken over his own mind's lie to make himself act rationally to the situation. He'd have to settle for the next best thing, which was to _pretend_ to be perfectly normal. If he did that enough, eventually his inner and outer feelings would line back up and he'd be back on the right path. There was no point in upsetting anyone else in the meantime.

Pasting on a smile as Eric got him back to the room, Brandon thanked him for the pool time and reminded the troll that the next day would be the trial run for five steps.

"That's right," Eric agreed, "and then you have the rest of the day off to do whatever you want with your gorgeous gal. You two have any plans?"

"I'm not taking her to the movies," Brandon replied, tagging on a laugh that he hoped to god didn't sound too forced or bitter. "Maybe another walk through the park?"

He titled his head up in Teva's direction, who was standing right beside his chair still holding his hand. In fact, she hadn't hardly let go since they had gotten in the van, now that he was thinking about it. Go figure that she'd know he needed the contact.

"Sure, the park sounds great," she replied happily enough.

The park wasn't really what he wanted though. The park, the pool, the clinic; wash, rinse repeat. Hell, he could probably roll _himself_ through the clinic, park, and their immediate surrounding areas by that point in time. The pool was the only place different he got to go to, and even though that had only been twice, and he loved it, it was still just another confined area.

Maybe that's what part of his problem was. It was bad enough that he was obviously still going to be locked in his gray little universe for some time to come. It made the world seem so small to him, a place with little color and light, and though he'd never been claustrophobic by any means, he was starting to get that sense that the walls were closing in on him. That small second in the pool where he thought he could see opened up the box he'd been shut in, let him breathe for once in what felt like ages. Maybe if he was at least exposed to different sounds, different smells, different corners that his chair was turned around, he'd feel a little better.

"Baby, Eric's trying to say goodbye," Teva was whispering in his ear.

He hadn't realized that he'd zone out. "Oh, sorry. I'm tired. Way overdue for my nap. Yeah, I'll see you in the morning, Eric."

"Not a problem. You rest up, and we'll see about that fifth step. I'm pretty sure you've got it in you, champ."

The troll slapped Brandon on the shoulder and left them alone, after which Teva rolled the chair over to the table. His lunch would be arriving soon, then he could take his nap.

"I don't want to go the park," he admitted once she'd scooted her own chair closer beside his, maintaining that contact. "You gotta bust me out of here, angel. This place is driving me nuts."

It was the first time that Brandon had really asked to go out somewhere, and Teva found that she was thrilled by the unexpected request. Having him actually declare that he wanted to do something different was a good sign, right? So maybe they weren't headed for Frown Town just yet. "Okay, yeah, absolutely," she chirped, grinning widely, and squeezed his hand a little. "I'll talk to Peters about signing you out for a couple hours."

There was a perfunctory knock on the door frame, then Mattie swept into the room, calling out, "Hey, B, Teva, how's it going today?"

"Pretty good," Teva replied, smiling at the curly-haired nurse, and taking a gander at her Garret Hood scrub top. "Nice shirt," she complimented, her friendly smile turning into a bit of a smirk.

"Aw, thanks," Mattie grinned, laughingly sheepishly as she plucked the hem out and stared down at the cartoon character. "My son picked it out. He loves Garret Hood, and because he loves it, I've been drafted into loving it. Lately that's all he talks about."

"How old?" Brandon asked.

"He's seven," she replied. "Now, what do you want for lunch today? I've got a couple options. You can have au gratin potatoes with teeny little bits of ham in it, vegetable soup with cornbread, or red beans and rice."

Brandon made an aghast face, and asked incredulously, "More real food? You guys are spoiling me."

Teva and Mattie both laughed, though Mattie's was a louder, higher bray, and Teva's chuckle was the smooth, rolling alto.

"I know, I know," Mattie sighed, and wiped the tears out of the corner of her eyes. "We're working on getting you up to eating more substantial foods."

"Thank god," Brandon huffed. "Much more soup, and I'm gonna lose it."

"Alright, no soup," Mattie agreed with a little giggle. "So you want rice or potatoes?"

"Hm..." Brandon deliberated over it for awhile, tapping the arm of his chair. "The red beans and rice, I guess. It'll be a change from the potatoes and soup."

"Done," Mattie agreed. "I'll go put your order in. It'll be a couple minutes." She waved casually to Teva as she turned on her heel and walked swiftly out of the room.

After she'd been gone for a second, Teva rubbed her thumb over Brandon's knuckle. "So what would you like to do tomorrow, you think? Something different, I know, but...I don't really know what L.A. has to offer. I could find some stuff though. Maybe we could go do some make-your-own-pottery or something like that, or go out to eat? What do you think? Any ideas?"

"No, no," Brandon shook his head fervently, crinkling his nose up at the suggestions. "I want to _do_ something. I need to...I don't know..."

He pulled his hand out of Teva's and gripped the wheels of his chair, rolling himself backwards. He hadn't really attempted to move himself before, not much, mostly relying on everyone else to get him around. Nobody wanted him to bump into things, after all, but at the moment he didn't much care. He needed to move around on his own, not in a pool, but in regular space.

Either that or he was just feeling a little reckless. That was probably more likely considering what he was about to suggest.

The chair bumped back against the bed when he went too far, and he adjusted to turn it so he was facing the more open area of the room before rolling forward again. Pacing felt appropriate, but he couldn't _actually_ pace, so he had to settle for rolling back and forth. Teva would probably warn him or catch him or something if he was about to run into the wall, cueing him to turn around. If not, oh well. It wasn't like he'd be going fast enough in his small space to hurt himself.

"We should...take Rena out for a drive." He stopped and turned towards where he thought the table was. "Out in the country. Then you could let me drive and just tell me when to turn."

"Brandon-"

He wasn't going to give her the chance to shoot him down just yet. Instead, he turned back in the vague direction he had started in so he could continue with his roll-pacing. "And we could throw the guns in the back so I can shoot at things out there in the middle of nowhere. You can tell me where to aim too. That'd be okay."

The legs of her chair scraped across the floor, and he took that as a sign that she was about to come running to his rescue to prevent him from crashing into something. He turned his wheelchair around and began rolling it along again.

"Or I've got my credstick stashed away in the safe house somewhere with most of the nuyen on it from that last 'run we did. We could go skydiving. Just strap me to one of the pros and we'd be set to go. Or bungee jumping; I don't need my legs for that."

"Baby, we c-"

"_Or,_" he swiveled around again, this time turning his back towards her because he knew she wasn't going to like this one, but he was going to throw it out there anyway, "I'm pretty damn sure Nix didn't get hauled off to prison. He's always got some crazy stunt or game or race or something up his sleeve. I bet he knows something I can do like this. Not for the drugs, just for the thrills, ya know? What do you think?"

"Absolutely not." Her tone was cold and hard like steel. Teva wasn't going to bend on this. There was no way in hell they were contacting Nix. That little fuck was one of the reasons they were stuck in this shitty situation. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, and glared at Brandon, who was still rolling back and forth over the floor nervously. "That spineless sack of shit stood by and did nothing while Gabe, _the man who put you here_, started a fight with you in a public place, in case you're forgetting."

"He couldn't have done anything about that," Brandon protested loudly. "It just would've put him on Gabe's shit list too!"

Making her own silent stalk through the room, she drawled, "Yeah, that's wonderful. Some friend, hm? Won't defend you because he's afraid to piss off his dealer; I guess we know how much he values your relationship." Her words sliced through the air with cool precision while in turn Brandon's cheeks began to burn with anger.

"Yeah, whatever," he spat. "Fine, then let's do something else. Let's-"

"I'm not letting you drive a car," Feral cut him off with a snarl, "And I'm not taking you skydiving, or bungee jumping, or putting a gun in your hands. Have you lost your fucking mind? You-"

"Why not?" Brandon snapped, "I've lost everything else!"

Teva's arms dropped to her sides momentarily in shock. Her eyes widened. There was a beat of silence before she found it in her to say, "_Everything?_"

She couldn't quite believe it. Of course, part of her, that tiny little voice that was but a whisper against a howling gale, knew it wasn't him talking. This was Brandon lashing out because he was frustrated, heartbroken, but it didn't make her feel any better. Her own defenses rose up.

"You've lost everything?" she began, her voice carefully controlled because if it wasn't she was going to scream. "Really? You fucking melodramatic little shit!" Oops. It happened anyway. "I can't _believe_ you! You are so...such a..._agh!_" Her hands ran through her hair, tugging roughly on the short strands. "Fuck you! _Everything,_" Teva repeated, spat out like a bullet from a gun. "What about me, the Reyeses, all your friends on the staff here? Are we just relegated to nothing because of your bitterness? Doesn't our love for you count for something?" Teva beat her hand over her heart subconsciously, then dropped it as she realized the gesture would be wasted on him.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Brandon replied, his voice still raised.

"But it's what you said!" she shot back. "You act like you're the only one who's living through this, but we're here too. We have to watch time and again as you struggle to succeed. Don't you think it hurts me too that you can't just jump out of that chair and do a jig? That you can't see me?" Tears began to fill her eyes as it felt like a hand reached into her chest and grasped her lungs, squeezed tightly so each breath was hard won.

"But it's not you!" her boyfriend yelled, and rolled his wheels hard in a gesture of futile anger. He hit the bed hard, barking out "God-fucking-dammit!" as his leg banged up against it. "You don't know, Teva! Because it's not you!"

Teva stilled, and went deadly silent. She watched Brandon struggle to straighten himself out impassively, feeling around with one hand, and playing with his wheels with the other until he was in open space again. Abruptly, she turned for the door. "Fuck you," she said again, but it was quiet and lacking in the anger she'd displayed moments ago. "It's nice to know that being able to see, to walk is so much more important to you than the people who love you, or the fact that you're alive at all. I'm glad we've finally straightened out where I rank to you." Just as she was about to cross the threshold, she turned slightly, saying over her shoulder, "You know what, B? You're always going to be a victim, because that's how you think. _'Why does everything happen to me?'_" Her voice was a mocking whine. "You blame fate, and you piss and moan about how life isn't fair like somehow you've deliberately been given the short straw. That is _such_ bullshit. This situation here? You made it. Nobody but you."

She heard Brandon hissing like a spitting cat somewhere behind her. Feral kept on talking. "You got in bed with some bad people. That was your decision. These are your consequences. Deal with it."

With that final piece of advice, Teva walked out of the room. She made it all the way to the desk, where Mattie was doing something. The nurse looked up when Teva arrived, concern scrawled across her features. "Everything okay?" she asked carefully. "I heard you guys fighting, but I figured I should let you just ride it out."

Shaking her head, Teva said, "No, it's really not." She scrubbed her hands over her face. "Tell Peters he needs to get in there and fucking fix what he did."

Mattie frowned, clearly out of the loop. "I don't understand," she said, and shook her head lightly in her confusion.

"He told Brandon something that he shouldn't have, then today Bran thought he saw something, only he didn't. Now he's trying to get me to take him fucking bungee jumping," Teva drawled, fishing a hard candy out of the bowl on the desk, and popping it absentmindedly in her mouth. She played with the wrapper between her fingers, the clear cellophane crinkling loudly.

"His body can't handle that," Mattie said, beginning to stand up in alarm.

"I know. I told him no fucking way," Feral replied tiredly. "I gotta go, okay? I just...I can't be here right now. I'm too..."

"Go," Mattie told her sympathetically. "I'll have Peters get in there, and we'll try and figure out where his head's at, okay?"

"Yeah," Teva sighed, rubbing her temple. "Thanks."

"See you tomorrow?" the nurse asked hopefully.

With another sigh, she nodded. "Tomorrow," she confirmed verbally, and headed for the door, her hands in her pockets, head hanging low.

* * *

**TBC…**


	9. Chapter 9

Coming Home

Chapter Nine

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Brandon sat in silence for a moment after she'd gone, his chest heaving in and out in bitter anger. He put himself there, huh? Well, fine. If he put himself there, then he was getting himself out too. Obviously no one else was going to help him. It'd be just like always, just like how it'd been after Nate left him.

_Fend for yourself, Brandon. Make the bed you slept in. Quit being a goddamn pussy and do it on your own. You don't need anybody's help._

He didn't, not really. Working fast, he rolled around until he found something that could tell him where he was in the room, then made a beeline for the door. Out in the hall, right turn, go down past the washroom on the left in _three...two...one...one...o-_

There!

As he heard himself come up beside the room where the industrial dryers were spinning bed linens or whatever, he reached his left arm out to feel for the corner. It'd be there, just inch forward, feel, inch a little more, and there it was. He turned himself down the next hall and tried to picture in his head how far down the gym would be. It was on the right, took about a minute to get there, he thought. There would be a water fountain jutting out from the wall just before the door. If he stuck to the wall he'd run into it eventually, then he could feel for the gym entrance. Simple, as long as-

"Brandon?"

He stopped, and smiled politely as he turned back towards the voice that was coming up behind him. "Hi! Uh...is it...Gina?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly. "Are you supposed to be out here?"

Keeping his smile casual, he folded his hands in his lap and talked as if he was _exactly_ where he was supposed to be. "I just forgot something in the gym earlier before we went to the pool. I figured I could get it myself. I know my way around well enough by now."

"Well, do you need help? I can get it for y-"

"No, Gina, _please_," he begged, laying on the puppy eyes a little bit. Not too much, didn't want to overdo it. "I'm trying to learn to do things for myself. I mean, I need to, right? I can't have everyone doing things for me forever. That's what everyone keeps telling me, anyway. Maybe if you could just stand there and make sure I make the right turn though, that would be okay? It's not _really_ making somebody else do the work for me, right?"

She seemed to think it over for a second, during which time he was trying very hard not to hold his breath. That would've given him away. He knew better, knew the tricks and how to play his cards when a lie was in order.

"Oh, alright, fine. Don't tell Peters I helped you cheat then," she finally answered.

Bingo. Newbies were so easy. Almost enough to make him feel guilty about taking advantage of her. Almost.

"Thank you," he said with honest relief, and turned back towards the door. "Here?" he asked innocently.

"Mmmm, not quite. A little farther."

He knew damn well he wasn't close enough yet. Yeah, _way_ too easy.

"Ooh, Brandon, be careful of the-"

"Oh, the fountain. I remember. Thank you."

Grinning wide with his back to the young nurse, he navigated around the obstacle and found the door just on the other side where he knew it would be. "Here, right?"

She clapped her hands. "That's it! You got it!"

Laughing, he turned the handle on the door and pushed it open. "I'm pretty sure I know exactly where to find my thing, but if I'm not out in five minutes, I probably got lost. You should probably come in and help me then."

"Alright, five minutes. I'll wait here for you. Clock starts now."

He was out the back door to the gym in thirty seconds. The only problem was he'd only been out that way a couple times, and never during the times when he could see. None of his previous visits required therapy; they were always pretty much just in and out. The longest he'd stayed there before was during the last time Teva had been with him, and he _definitely_ wasn't doing any PT then. He was on strict orders to rest, recovering from having shot up his own lung.

It was fine, though. He knew the building well enough, had been there a thousand times before. He knew what neighborhood he was in, sort of knew the building's layout. If he could just picture the map in his head, he could...

Oh, wait, his Enhancer. He couldn't just _do_ that kind of stuff anymore. Something had damaged the Enhancer and it hadn't been fixed, so he couldn't just pull numbers or a map out of the air like he could before. If he knew exactly what side of the building he was on though, so he could find his way through the streets easily enough. He'd lived in that city all his life, after all, and didn't need an Enhancer to help him navigate. He just wasn't certain whether that gym door spat him out on the east side or the south side. He thought it was south, was pretty sure it was south if he was drawing out the building's structure correctly in his head.

Deciding it was south, he took a right turn down the sidewalk, and once he heard traffic and slowed down so that he could ever-so-carefully reach down with one foot and check for the curb ahead of him, he turned the chair to the left. Waiting for the little chirping noise that would tell him it was safe to "walk," he crossed the street, hit his wheels on the curb on the other side, cursed the fact that the ramps were always built at that weird angle on sidewalks, and rolled back up on the sidewalk on the other side. That would put him heading towards S Hope and 12th. He thought. Or maybe he _had_ gone out on the east side of the building, which would put him heading towards Olive and 11th. If he just kept track of his turns either way, he would eventually get himself to somewhere familiar. He just needed a landmark, or a friendly pedestrian to ask. He could get to that later though. First he just needed to get as far away from the clinic as possible. They'd be looking for him. And probably yelling at poor Gina for letting him pull one over on her.

"Sorry, Gina," he muttered, and rolled along as fast as he could. He'd come back later and apologize properly. For now, he just needed an escape from his helplessness, just be gone long enough until he thoroughly wore himself out, which wouldn't take all that long, really. He'd been swimming all morning, and not accustomed to powering the chair on his own like he was doing. He'd tire eventually, then he would just backtrack and return to the clinic. All he wanted was some space to think, to breathe, to calm down, to be himself with no one telling him what to do, or pitying him, or judging him, or making him angry enough to say stupid shit that he didn't really mean. A little break from it all. That's all he needed.

And maybe just a little thrill so he could feel fucking alive again.

* * *

Mattie had gone straight to Doctor Peters' office after Teva had left, rapping her knuckles authoritatively on the door.

"Yes?" the doctor's voice called out behind the door. "Come in."

Grasping the door handle, she swung the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind her. The doctor was seated behind his desk, working on his desktop console. Knowing him, he was probably reviewing patient files, and researching more up-to-date methods of helping them. Peters was good like that. He not only was good at his job, he wanted to do his job and beyond if he could. The older gentleman with his thinning brown hair, and neatly trimmed beard, often had a look of perpetual tiredness on his face. Long hours and even personal time spent at the office and in classes learning cutting edge healing techniques for his patients had definitely left their mark on the man. Yet despite all that, Peters never seemed to be in a bad mood. He never got burnt out like Mattie had seen some physicians do. He never truly shut down and ceased to care.

"Mattie, what is it?" Peters glanced up at her, his thick eyebrows drawing down in a frown.

"Teva expressed some concerns. She said Brandon thought he could see today, only he really didn't. After they got back from the pool, he became restless, and tried to convince her to take him bungee jumping. They argued, and she left. Brandon's in his room, and I think you need to talk to him. Something is clearly going on. Teva seems to think this was triggered by something you said to him?" Mattie explained carefully, stuffing her hands in her scrub pockets.

"Hm," Peters clicked something closed on his computer screen, and stood up, reaching for his white lab coat. "Yes, thank you for telling me, Mattie. Let's go down there now." As they walked down the maze-like back corridors of the clinic, he commented idly, "I wish he would consent to speaking to a therapist."

"I know, but you realize he won't. I mean, just look at his medical history. Guy's had enough 'talking it out' time," Mattie agreed as they approached the patient's room.

Peters walked in first, and stopped abruptly in the doorway. The nurse almost ran right into his back. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked very carefully.

"What? What?" Mattie asked, dodging around him. "Oh my god," she gasped as she caught sight of the empty room.

"Does he have any appointments this afternoon?" Peters barked, turning to face her.

"No! His lunch is on the way," Mattie answered hurriedly, turning on her heel and jogging to the ward's desk. She clicked around on her computer, and suddenly a silent alarm began going off, the lights outside of the patient rooms flickering in a telltale pattern that meant 'patient missing.' At each desktop, an alert was popping up with the missing patient's photo and name. Company policy dictated that as soon as the lights started flashing the ward nurses were to go check the desktops.

She looked up from the desk at the doctor who'd approached, and frowned. "Should we call Teva?"

Peters hesitated. "Not yet. If he's not found after we sweep the facility, then go ahead. We don't want to panic her unnecessarily. Hopefully he'll turn up in the hallways somewhere."

A few nurses began popping up at the desk, as well as some of the aides. Peters took charge immediately, assigning the staff to sections of the building, and informing them of the procedure. "Once you've completed the search of your area, call up to the desk here, and let Mattie know. She'll nix off your sector, and you may return to your regularly scheduled tasks. If you find the patient, call it in so we can call off the search, and then escort him back here, please. Thank you, everyone."

So the search began...

* * *

_Save enough for the trip back._

That was always one of life's token, golden rules. If you gave the trip out everything you had, you were never going to make it home. Period. Unless it was a one-way race and there was someone waiting for you at the other end ready to give you a ride. Then you could go out there and cross that finish line dead on your feet.

This wasn't a race though, and there was no one at the other end to pick Brandon up. He was just wandering through the city, finding his escape, calming his nerves, feeling free for a little while, then starting to feel really, _really_ dumb once his head was screwed on straight again. Yeah, he was doing fine-only ran into a few more curbs before he got the hang of where the ramps were, nearly rolled over a homeless guy once who was too busy yelling at him to tell him where he was, and got his front wheel stuck in a little hole in the sidewalk that took some fancy trickery to get himself out of-but this whole thing was still monumentally stupid. What if a car decided to run a light? Or someone decided to take advantage of his obvious disabilities and robbed him for...well, his sneakers, really. He didn't have anything else on him worth any value, unless they wanted the chair. _Then_ he'd be fucked. Plus, he _thought_ he saved enough energy for the trip back, but now as he was turning around, he wasn't so sure.

Arms feeling the strain of having pushed him however far he'd gone, he began to retrace his...steps-_wheel treads?_-cursing at himself as he made it back down the first three blocks. This was beyond dumb. It was...no, there were actually no words he could think of that could describe what he'd just done. He had run away from home, essentially, like a selfish kid trying to prove some senseless point to parents who were just going to smack him upside the head and tell him what an idiot he'd been once he got back home. And he fucking deserved it. Whatever consequences came out of this mess, he fully and truly deserved every last punishment he was going to get.

Oh, fuck, what block was he on? _Shit!_ He'd been so busy admonishing himself he stopped keeping count.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_ This is great, brilliant, you're a fucking Class A genius."

If he hadn't already been lost before, he definitely was now. There should've been a right turn somewhere, but was it ahead or behind him? It was a right, then a few more blocks before he took a left, putting him a street that paralleled this one for a little bit before it seemed to take a wide turn, because he kept having to realign his wheels when going straight was continuously bumping him up against the buildings. Maybe he could just go ahead and take the right, count off the four blocks before that left turn, and he should still wind up on that curving street somewhere, just ahead or behind of where he had initially turned off it. No big deal.

Except he only made it three blocks before he hit a dead end. This street didn't connect all the way through.

"Fuck!" he shouted, not caring if anyone was around to listen. Any kid in L.A. who wasn't used to obscenities by the time they had lived there for only a month was clearly either wearing earplugs all the time, had a constant loop of family friendly music playing on their comms, or were deaf.

Backing up to the last cross street, he turned down it and hung a right at the next corner, only to come to another dead end. He must have gone too far initially, gotten ahead of that curve somewhere. That just meant he'd have to go back a few blocks and try from there. This would work.

He realized after several turns with no success later that it _wasn't_ going to work. Now he'd _completely_ lost track of where he was.

Putting his head in his hands, he groaned loudly and literally slammed one foot against his opposite leg in a self-kick.

"She's going to kill you," he mumbled. That was _if_ he could even contact Teva. He'd memorized her comm number over the weeks just in case he got himself into another jam, which was exactly what he'd done, of course, so that wasn't the problem. He just didn't know at this point whether he was in the business district anymore where he could maybe use one of their call lines, or if he had wandered to the outcropping of city homes.

Well, there was only one way to find out. Turning his chair so he came right up against the wall, he moved along it slowly until he found a door. Business door. At least there was that, even if it _was_ locked, which meant it was one of the closed down businesses. That was okay. He'd just have to keep at it until he found one that was open. Then he could call Teva to come get his retarded ass, hope that she _would_ and not just leave him there to rot like he honestly deserved, and take his beatings from her and everyone else at the clinic.

Yup, just another fun day in the life of dipshit Brandon, causing trouble with everything he touched.

Maybe the pottery class wouldn't be so bad. At least if he ruined that it would only fold over into a pile of wet, muddy mush, and he could start over again. When Teva was done killing him, maybe he'd dare to suggest it. Something less reckless might actually be okay.

* * *

"Oh no," Gina moaned as she stared at the monitor.

"What?" asked Sam, a tall, reedy man with chin length blond hair. He kind of looked like a surfer, if Gina was inclined to believe stereotypes. He stopped tapping on his tablet, and looked up at her. "Gina, what is it? You're freaking me out."

"The missing patient," she moaned. "I saw him earlier. He was heading into the gym. Oh my god, I just let him go. I am such an _idiot!_" The redhead let her forehead thump onto the desk.

Sam, after he got over his initial shock, came over and patted her on the shoulder. "Hey, hey, don't beat yourself up over it. You didn't know."

She kind of thought Sam had a little crush on her, and he was nice, and Gina kind of tripped all over herself in his presence and ended up making herself look really stupid pretty much consistently. It didn't help that she was trying to learn all the procedures at the clinic. It was so different from the retirement home she'd worked for while she was going to school! She'd felt so optimistic when she got the job at DocWagon, so excited to do something different, to help people get _better_ instead of just making them comfortable until they died. This was a place where she could use her magic to help, and make some sort of a lasting difference.

The girl sighed heavily.

Sam squeezed her shoulder. "Gina, look, I know you feel bad, but you gotta call it in, okay?"

"I'm gonna get in trouble, aren't I?" she moaned.

"Well, what happened specifically?" Sam wanted to know.

Gina twirled a long lock of her bangs around her finger. "Um...I saw him in the hallway, and we spoke for a little bit. He told me he left something in the gym, and since he was supposed to be trying to be more independent, he insisted on going to get it himself. I was supposed to check on him if he wasn't back in five minutes, but..." Groaning again, she slapped her forehead. "The call light went off in one of the patient rooms, then another, and another, and then I had to call the pharmacy to straighten out Mister Trillis' prescription...and..."

"I get it," Sam soothed, "You got busy. It happens. And he's not a regular patient of yours, so you had no way of knowing that he was lying to you. You'll be fine." He cleared his throat and stepped away then, saying briskly, "Now make the call."

Gina picked up the vidphone, and punched the extension for the nurse's desk in the second ward, feeling strangely happy that Sam was being so nice about her screw-up, and yet still kind of bad about the whole incident with the missing patient. How could she have been so stupid?

* * *

"Please, please, please don't delete this," Brandon repeated as he waited for Teva's voicemail to pick up. She wouldn't answer it, not when it looked like some random, little pawn shop was calling. The only thing he could hope for was that maybe she would at least listen to the message.

It had taken him longer than he'd hoped to find a place that would let him use their line. Either the places were shut down, or the non-pitying people of good ol' L.A. tossed him out. The apartment buildings wouldn't buzz him in to begin with, and the shops told him he had to buy something if he wanted to use their line. They weren't going with the whole "I'll pay you back later" thing either. Assholes.

The pawn shop owner only let him off the hook because she was a nice lady, a foreigner who still seemed to understand the concept of taking care of her fellow man. Her timing couldn't have been more perfect, either, because he didn't have anything left for the trip back by that point. His arms were spent. _He_ was spent. If Teva didn't come for him after the first call, he'd have to pray the woman would be hospitable enough to let him hang out there and use her line over and over again until Teva picked up.

The funny thing was he wasn't actually as far away from the clinic as he'd originally thought once he found out where he was. Apparently he'd been going in more circles than he realized while he'd been lost in his tirade. The roads were kind of built funny like that, taking those odd bends that made streets diagonally cross over each other without a person realizing they were practically doubling back, unless they knew the street names, of course. He did, but that didn't help when he couldn't read them.

It made him feel even _more_ stupid knowing he could've had the stamina to probably make it back initially if he only knew where he was. That didn't help him any now, though. He was stranded until either someone came for him or he got some sleep.

"Teva," he started once the beep sounded, his voice coming out ashamed and more than a little sulky. "I...sort of did something really... I wasn't thinking at all. Or maybe I was thinking with the broken brain cells. I don't know. I'm at Kahli's Pawn Shop, not _too_ far from the clinic. Can you come get me? Or at least have someone else come get me if you don't want to? I got a little lost and burned myself out too much to head back on my own. Please? Don't...don't leave me here. I'm sorry, okay? And I'm not just saying that to get you to rescue me. I'm really, really sor-"

The voicemail box cut him off, and he cursed as he handed the call piece back over.

"She no answer?" the woman asked. He didn't want to presume her name was Kahli just because that's what the store was called.

"No," he sighed, "she no answer."

Now all he could do was wait, and if she didn't call back or someone didn't show up in about fifteen minutes, he'd call her again. He'd do it the rest of the day if he had to, as long as the store woman let him. People's hospitality only tended to go so far, after all.

* * *

The train came to a screeching halt at Teva's stop, and she stepped off onto the platform with the others leaving to reach their final destinations. It was as she was going up the staircase that she clicked play on her messages. She'd seen in the corner of her eye the caller I.D. as her comm went off on the train, its discreet beep completely squashed by the noise of the train. A pawn shop? Why would a pawn shop be calling her? Teva had sent the call the voicemail, unwilling to try to answer it on the train.

Brandon's voice hit her ears, and she stopped in her tracks.

A moment later, she hissed in a breath, and marched back down the stairs, calling the clinic as she did. "DocWagon, how can I help you?" a perfunctory male voice asked as it picked up the line.

"Ward two nurse's desk," Teva snapped.

"One moment while I transfer you." Some craptacular muzak came on the call, and then Mattie's voice, "Ward two, how can I help you?"

"Mattie, it's Teva. Is Brandon missing?" she asked carefully.

"Oh my god, yes. I'm so sorry, Teva! I was just about to call you!" the nurse apologized emphatically.

Teva paid the fee to get back on the train, and stepped onto the outbound platform. "Don't worry about it. He called me from a pawn shop. I'll go get him."

A few minutes later, Mattie had rushed off to call a halt to the search at the clinic and on the grounds nearby, and Teva called the pawn shop back. A woman picked up the line. All Teva said was, "Tell my stupid boyfriend I'm on my way."

The train showed up then, so she disconnected the comm call, and stepped on, grabbing the bar overhead.

Wanting Brandon more out of the way, the woman - Linh was her name - rolled him into the back room where he found a little desk to lay his head on. He had been partially asleep, his face buried in his folded arms, when she knocked her knuckles loudly on the wood right next to his ear. It startled him, jerking him awake so suddenly that had he been in a normal chair it probably would've tipped backwards. With the breaks being on his wheelchair, though, it merely rocked a little bit in place until he settled.

For a moment he forgot where he was, used to the subtle beeps and hospital smells that he normally woke up to. This place had odd music twanging in the background - something asian, maybe Korean or Vietnamese - and the atmosphere had that musty, antique smell to it.

_Pawn shop_, he reminded himself, doing his best to calm his breathing. He imagined once he left the clinic that his mornings would be like that for a while - confusing, unfamiliar, a little frightening. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad when Teva was there beside him.

_If_ she was there. After this little stunt he'd just pulled he wouldn't blame her for being pissed off at him for the rest of his life.

"Hey, hey," Linh said impatiently. "Your girly call. She on her way."

"She's actually coming?" he asked incredulously. "Like, in person? She's not sending someone else?"

"That what she say. She say, 'Tell my stupid boyfriend I'm on my way.' Just like that. I no lie."

He shook his head. "No, I believe you. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, if she coming to kill you, take it outside. I don't want blood in my shop. Hard to clean."

Laughing a little nervously, he nodded at that. Teva was going to kill him, alright. Maybe not literally, but he imagined if he could see her there'd be smoke coming out of her ears. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, happy as he was that she wasn't mad at him enough to leave him stranded there for a while, he was also kind of terrified at the same time. There may not be blood involved in the confrontation (he hoped), but there may very well be bruises.

And again, he would deserve every bit of it.

* * *

After finding the address for the pawn shop, it was pretty easy to get there. It was only a few blocks away from the clinic, so Teva took the same exit and everything, and used the map on her comm to navigate the tangle of streets.

Kahli's Pawn Shop was a small store front with a wide glass door, and a small slope leading into the building. A bell jingled over her head as she stepped inside, and a small, stooped Asian woman behind the counter. "Hi," Teva waved lazily, "Is my stupid boyfriend here?" She was very unenthused, and still stewing in a pit of anger and hurt.

The shopkeeper bustled out from behind the sales counter, saying, "Yes, he here. In back. I go get him."

Nodding, Teva leaned against the counter to indicate she'd wait, glancing absentmindedly about the store as she did so. A bracelet in the display case caught her eye, and as the woman pushed Brandon's wheelchair out from the back room, she tapped the glass lightly with her fingernail.

"This bracelet. I'll take it."

The woman beamed at her, maneuvering Brandon around the display cases, and out to the main floor. "Okay."

Waiting while she rang up the purchase to transfer the money, Teva simply studied Brandon, but didn't say a word.

He fidgeted uncomfortably in the silence, then said hesitantly, "Teva? Angel?"

She blinked. "I'm here," Teva finally stated with a strange, numb quality to it.

"Oh."

They subsided back into silence, and the shopkeeper spoke up, giving Teva her total. She transferred the correct amount of credits, and took the little bag that the woman held out to her. "Thank you," she said, and smiled.

The walk back to the clinic was equally silent, and Teva occupied herself thinking about the silver cuff bracelet, and the large turquoise stone in the middle. It was pretty, but not really something she'd wear on a regular basis. It was a little overpriced too, but the shopkeeper had deserved some kind of recompense for her kindness. Teva hated owing people.

As soon as they walked through the door, a bunch of staff members surrounded them, whisking Brandon off to his room. They scolded him fiercely in a babble of voices.

Teva watched the proceedings, hovering in a corner of the room where she wouldn't be in the way at all.

There were too many voices, all talking too fast and at the same time, and he was too tired to try to decipher who they belonged to and what, exactly, they were saying. He didn't have to, anyway. They were all angry, and definitely worried as different people checked him over, making sure he hadn't hurt himself. The few questions about his health that got through the storm of voices he answered with an almost absent quality, more interested in what was going on outside the cacophony than his position in the middle of it all.

He couldn't hear Teva. She'd been quiet the whole way back, and to him that was worse than the explosion he kept expecting to happen. He couldn't see the expression on her face to know what she was thinking, or the tension in her body that would signal a modicum of control over her anger. There was no way to tell whether she even _was_ angry, or if she'd gone beyond that. Maybe this one was too far and she just didn't care anymore, and the thought whisked him back to that day when they were sitting on a street corner both saying silent goodbyes, thinking they were both no good for each other. What if this time was more like what he'd thought back then? That she finally realized he was too much trouble for her to handle? What if she was already gone?

She probably was. She'd left him to the wolves and fled, and he had absolutely no one to blame but himself for it.

"Alright, that's enough," Peters voice carried above everybody else's. "Mattie, go get the boy his lunch. I'm sure he's hungry, and by the looks of him more than a little tired. Aaron, help me get him up in the bed; he can sleep in his sweats for now. The rest of you, go back to your duties. Excitement's over."

Before everyone had a chance to clear out, Brandon cleared his throat, stopping the movement for a second. "I...I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't...it won't happen again. I promise."

Nobody responded, just simply headed back to work. They were going to be mad at him for awhile, he knew. That meant things were probably just going to go back to him and the Reyeses for a while, only they didn't stay as long as they used to anymore. There were going to be some long, lonely days ahead of him.

"Brandon," Peters started again once he and Aaron had settled Brandon in the bed. "We need to talk about what I told you after your light test."

Alarm filled Brandon's world, chasing away his exhaustion and self-deprecation for the time being. "Don't," he practically pleaded.

"We need to have this discussion, son. I should've correc-"

"_Please,_ don't." There was a desperate quality in Brandon's tone now, but he didn't care. "I know what you said, okay? I know what you said, I know what you meant, and I know what I latched onto. I know it was stupid of me to think I could see something that early. I _know_ that. You never said it'd be in a matter of days. I didn't think it was either, but then I...it was stupid. I'm admitting it, okay? It was a stupid, hopeful dream, and I let it get the best of me. You told me I had a good chance though. A _chance._ I know what that means. But a _good_ one, you said, and that's what I jumped on because I _need_ that. Please don't correct it. _Please_, doc, don't take that away. I can't _do_ this if I don't...I can't have you tell me I could be in the dark forever. I _can't._"

Peters was quiet for a long moment, and Brandon had to reach out just to assure himself that the man was still there. He was feeling entirely too vulnerable at the moment to be left alone, not after everything that had just happened. Finally, the doc's token sigh broke the silence.

"You should really talk to a professional, Brandon. They can help you."

Brandon shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "No, they really can't," he answered sadly. Even if he wanted to he'd never be able to talk to those people seriously. Not after what happened to Nate. All he could see when he looked at a therapist was that grave marker. Brandon was on his own in this, unless maybe he hadn't managed to chase Teva away, after all.

"Can you sit with me for a little while?" he asked quietly, a little embarrassed, still keeping his fingers in contact with Peter's arm. "Just until my lunch comes?"

The doc patted his hand. "I can spare a few minutes."

Brandon thanked him and rested his head back on the pillows, feeling that knot tighten up in his stomach at the concept of being alone again, this time with no sun or moon or stars to light his way.

Watching the proceedings impassively was Teva, sequestered in a corner of the room. She was so _upset_ that she had no way to voice it, so tired, and hopeless, and beaten down. This was wearing on her already. How would she ever be strong enough to see this through to its conclusion, whatever that may be? She couldn't give Brandon the constant reassurance he seemed to require. Teva wasn't built to be the constantly sweet, nurturing type. She was a 'runner, for god's sake! Not a fucking nanny.

If Brandon didn't want to act like an adult, how the hell was she supposed to deal with him? Should she?

Teva thought not; she shouldn't have to _handle_ him. Bran was her _boyfriend_, not her _child_.

Yet this seemed to be the dynamic that had marked their relationship from the start. Her taking care of him, giving him what he needed; giving, and giving, and giving. How many times was she going to have to rescue him before he got back up on his feet and started doing it himself? Because she had a life to live too. Yes, she could afford some time off, but pretty soon she'd start dipping into her savings, and that was her retirement money. The goal was to leave that money in the bank so it could accrue interest, and eventually set herself up somewhere nice when her body became too broken down to work anymore.

That selfish prick. She felt bad when she stayed away for an hour or two working out, or when she came late. She felt guilty. How dare he? Brandon was a grown-up, and he should be able to survive a few extra hours without her by his side. Did he think he was the only one sick of being at the fucking clinic? Did he think it was easy for her or fun to come and sit day after day? This sedentary life, this monotonous routine was slowly driving her insane.

Then he went and pulled something as stupid as taking off from the clinic without a word to anyone? Running away like some overwrought adolescent? The poor staff, they had obviously been frantic with worry, and that was valuable time that had been taken away from seeing to other patients to go chase after his retarded ass.

The longer she thought about it, the angrier she got until she could barely stand to be in that room anymore. Her hands curled into fists with the need to literally slap some sense into her douchebag boyfriend.

Peters took one look at her set jaw, and suggested very gently, "Why don't you go home now? Take some time for yourself, and come back tomorrow or when you're feeling up to it."

Teva nodded jerkily. "Good idea," she got out between clenched teeth, and bolted for the door before another word could be said.

Brandon's head jerked back up at the sound of Teva's voice. She hadn't left. She'd been there whole time and hadn't said a single word. And just as fast as he'd discovered she was there, she was gone again, this time for real.

That knot that had been steadily growing in his stomach stretched up into his chest, then right up into his throat. Jesus, he was going to lose her. He was _really_ going to lose her, and he didn't have a goddamn clue what he should do about that.

"Okay, Brandon, I've got your lunch," Mattie said as she came into the room. She sounded worn out. _Everyone_ sounded worn out. He'd done that.

Somehow he found his voice enough to thank her, to which she gave a somewhat empty response and left the room again. It wasn't angry, just...absent, a triggered response born of habit, and nothing more.

"I'm _sorry_," Brandon said again to Peters, hoping at least _someone_ saw how genuinely apologetic he felt. Not that he deserved forgiveness, not after this, after everything he'd put this poor staff through back when he was an asshole drug addict. Still, he was hoping at least one person would acknowledge that he knew what he'd done was wrong.

"I know, son. It'll work out." Peters patted his arm again and stood up to leave. "I've got things to tend to. I'm going to call Eric to let him know not to come in tomorrow. Your arms aren't going to be able to handle those bars after your big adventure."

Well, great, just one more thing Brandon had fucked up for the day. At least his trainer would get a full day off out of it. He knew those mornings like tomorrow were the ones that Eric wasn't actually scheduled to come in on, but he did it anyway just for Brandon. The troll woke up early to come down just for those few steps on the bars, then took off to go do whatever it was the man did in his spare time. Eric would be disappointed in Brandon, too, once he found out what happened.

"Fucked up with everybody today," Brandon mumbled to himself once Peters was gone. Sighing, he picked at his beans for a little bit, then reached for his tablet. His writing, his one constant in his life, always seemed to be able to center him a little bit, allowed him to sort things out somewhat, or at least served as either a release or an escape from whatever was troubling him.

One thing he'd discovered lately with having Deuce read his words back to him was that sometimes his own writings were sort of inspiring. Writing them down was just pouring out his thoughts as they came. Hearing them read aloud, especially from somebody's else voice, sometimes triggered something new.

This time the programmed voice that sounded like Nate's was telling him to just do what he'd always done best - _be someone else, Brandon._ It was just that simple, just like he had written down. Put Brandon Wilson away somewhere, keep him locked up in his attic, and just become someone who was better equipped to handle this situation. It was Teva who had told him when they first met back up in his cafe that he had to think of going after Lonnie just like any other 'run. She'd been right then, and she was still right now; and how Brandon did 'runs was to become somebody else.

With Lonnie, he had become "dead Brandon" or "bleeding little boy Brandon" or ghostly forms of his cousin displayed in various ages. He'd also been the monster. He was himself, yes, but not _himself_. He was Ghost. The 'runner. Brandon Wilson was gone.

This time he needed to take a step beyond that though. He couldn't be a 'runner because Fixers didn't hire blind 'runners. Brandon and Ghost both needed to be put away for the time being. He needed someone new, like one of the characters he would research before going undercover, only this time he needed to make up his own research.

"Open new folder," he instructed his tablet. This needed to be somewhere else. The details of his alter ego needed to be easily accessible outside of his journal so he could pull them out whenever he needed a reminder of who he was supposed to be playing. Unlike all his other roles though, this time he was free to make up whatever he wanted. He could be whoever he wanted to be. It just needed to be convincing enough for him to keep up the game, not just for his sake, but for everybody else's. He couldn't let himself screw up again like he did today, and people like...Scott Brandon wouldn't act like overemotional children.

Scott Brandon. That would be perfect. People could call him by name and it wouldn't trip him up, because last names were used as monikers all the time. No one would have to know he was pretending, then. They wouldn't have to worry about him being angry or depressed or scared because "Brandon" wasn't any of those things. Scott was confidant, and happy, and stable, came from a well-off family in...New Zealand. Right. He was in L.A. on call for an acting job in a highly anticipated drama, based on the last year's best seller. There'd be an Oscar in it for him if he could pull off the role right, but he couldn't pull off the role of a down-on-his-luck blind man struggling to find his place in the world without knowing what it felt like. This was all just a very dedicated actor's method acting project. He'd had a procedure done to temporarily blind him; completely harmless, and his people would fix it once he was through. Right now he was just living the part, learning what it would've been like for this poor sap to go through such a traumatic ordeal.

Teva? Teva was his girlfriend, no change there. She was just helping him learn. Method actors needed everyone around them to cooperate in order to keep up the illusion, so she was playing a role just like he was. He just needed to remember that she _wasn't_ an actress, and it'd be hard on her keeping up the ruse for so long, so he had to remember to be himself when she was around (and by 'himself' he meant Scott, not Brandon). Without the accent though. If he slipped back into his New Zealand accent that could ruin the game. Nope, he was one-hundred percent American until the movie wrapped, and Teva would just have to live with that.

Brandon smirked a little bit at the thought of "slipping into his native accent" while he wrote. That would blow his cover, something that had rarely ever happened to him, but it'd be funny. They probably would think he was losing it, which maybe he was. He was about to step into the role of a very self-assured actor who was practicing to play the role of essentially his real self. It had to be like that, though. He had to convince them he was still Brandon, just in a better mood and able to handle this, while at the same time partially convincing himself that none of this was real. It was the only way he was going to be able to get through this without losing everyone he cared about.

Getting more into it, he felt the tension slipping away from him as he formulated more and more about Scott's life, his personality, his accomplishments. Arms tired from the strenuous day, hand shaking slightly as he wrote, he pushed on until he'd created every aspect of this alter ego's life that he could possibly need. By the time he was through, relaxing while he let Nate's voice repeat all the "facts" back to him over and over again, he had already locked Brandon Wilson up in his safe little closet. He was Scott Brandon, acclaimed New Zealand actor, able to handle any challenge thrown at him because at the end of the day he knew that none of this was real. He was just a guy shooting to earn that Oscar, that's all.

Maybe once they woke him up for dinner he would make few phone calls, send his gal out on the town for a little bit tomorrow. Poor darling shouldn't have to be stuck catering to his eccentricities all the time. Maybe she'd like a dinner date at Cardigan's, her and the Reyeses-long term friends of the Brandon family that Scott had brought along, figuring they could enjoy a little American vacation while he worked. Yes, that would be nice, and he could just send Teva with his cred stick to pick up the tab. She could use it to go shopping too, wherever she wanted, or maybe he'd check into some pottery classes for her if that's what would make her happy. There was plenty of nuyen on the stick. She could spend it however she saw fit.

He'd just earn more later once this movie hit the theater. It was going to make him very, very rich...

Brandon fell asleep solidifying the character in his mind, just like he always did when he was doing a deep undercover 'run. It was for the best, really, a win-win situation for everybody. No one would be upset, everyone would be happy that he was finally coping, and things could go back to being as normal as they could be under the circumstances. He was just taking away everybody's stress and worry. That was all this was, even for himself.

* * *

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

Coming Home

Chapter Ten

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

After beating the crap out of some people at a local MMA gym, the teeth in Teva's anger retracted. Oh, she was still upset...but it was mostly hurt fueling her ire, hurt and disbelief that Brandon could be so callous to all of the people around him who were only trying to help.

Maybe she'd been too nice? Too accommodating? Perhaps he was already taking her for granted?

Her sleep was restless, and she woke feeling like she only just fell asleep. A glance at the time made her sigh explosively. What Teva wanted was to roll over and go back to bed. However, what she wanted and what was necessary rarely was the same thing. She needed to see Brandon, hopefully before the Reyeses showed up, and maybe clear the air. Maybe that would make her feel a little better. So instead of getting more rest, Teva got up, hopped in the shower, downed a pot of soycaf, and smoked on her way to the subway station.

It was much earlier than she'd usually show up at the clinic, but Teva figured she'd head the Reyeses off at the pass this way. Plus if they started fighting again, there'd be plenty of time left in the day to go burn up the anger.

She stopped at the desk, smiling at Darlene. "Hey, girl. How's it going?"

Glancing up, the nurse grinned. "Hey, heard I missed a daring escape."

Teva rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Idiot."

"Try not to be so rough on him," Darlene laughed. "A lot of people have been acting pretty stiff around him today. He's definitely gotta be feeling that arctic breeze by now. Maybe give him a cuddle instead." She winked playfully. "He's obviously going through some rocky adjustment period."

With a harsh chuckle, she replied, "How about I use my fiery demon breath on him instead?"

"Uh-oh," Darlene winced in an exaggerated manner. "Is he in the dog house with you too?"

"Damn skippy," Teva drawled, tracing spiral patterns on the desk with a fingertip. Her smile was minuscule. "We had a fight yesterday, then all this other drama happened, and...I don't know, I just think we actually need to talk about what happened before we go back to pretending life is all sunshine and rainbows."

"Yeah, definitely," the nurse stood up, grabbing her tablet off the desk. She shot Teva a worried look, saying, "I hope you guys work it out."

"I'm sure we will," she responded, "So long as he's not set on stupid today."

Darlene giggled. "Men are always set on some degree of stupid." She waved. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yep," Teva agreed, flicking a casual, two-fingered wave over her shoulder as she turned to walk into Brandon's room.

Knocking lightly on the door jamb, she called out, "Can I come in?"

Brandon had made a point to apologize to everyone who had dealt with him the rest of the day before between the hours he'd been asleep, and then during the morning, not letting it get to him that they all seemed more than a little perturbed with him still. He'd fucked up, badly, and he would take his punishment in stride. Scott was a proud man, sometimes a bit conceited like most actors were, but he knew when to hang up his pride and bow down before the executioner's axe. His parents had raised him to be responsible for his own actions, after all.

Hearing Teva's voice outside his door admittedly caught him a little off guard though. He'd thought she would stay away today, that he'd have to call her later to tell her about the potential plans he had tentatively set up last night. Oh well, getting to tell her in person would be better. Then she could look at him and feel better about taking a day off, because he was completely fine with running this whole blind experiment on his own today. The character from the book he was portraying didn't have an awesome girlfriend to tend to him anyway, so it might actually be better for getting into his role if she wasn't always around. That should make her happy, giving her a little more freedom so she didn't feel obligated to be stuck in prison with him day after day.

_Just a clinic, _Scott_, just a clinic for your acting exercise, not a prison._

"Yeah, of course," he answered, sitting up a little straighter. "No run today?"

"No," she said as she entered the room. "I thought we should talk about what happened yesterday."

He nodded his head. "I kind of figured. Look, I was dumb, stupid, idiotic, retarded, whatever you want to call me. I know that. I said some things I didn't mean to, and if I thought a million apologies would make up for that I'd start giving them to you now. They won't though, so instead I'll just start by saying that _you_ are the most important thing in my life, period. The rest of this-" he lifted his hand a little and circled his finger around, a smaller gesture than he would've liked, but the only one his still-weary arm was capable of doing at the moment, "-it's a setback, and I'll get through it. I just had a bad day yesterday, so I want to make it up to you today, okay?"

"Bran-"

"I'm not finished. Sorry, that was rude, I know, but just hear me out, okay?" He waited to let her speak this time.

In the short pause it took for her to answer, he could almost imagine the arched eyebrow or maybe the eye roll that would come just before she opened her mouth. "Fine. Go ahead and finish."

"Okay. So I made some calls last night, thanks to Aaron who was nice enough to help me out even though he was still kind of ticked at me. Anyway, I have a credstick in my dresser, third drawer down, that still has almost all the nuyen on it from my account. I want you to take that and go have a day off. Nana and Tata too. I made dinner reservations for you at Cardigan's at seven tonight, and there's open pottery wheels at Haven's Arts or Le Petit Louvre. I think you'd like Le Petit better though. It's a little more expensive to participate in a session there, but the artists are more professional and can offer better advice or tips. That runs from eleven to two today if you're interested, or from noon to four at Haven's. If you don't like that idea, there's a production of 'Melody's Hammer' playing at The Yeltshl Theater either at eleven-thirty or four-thirty, which would give you just enough time to head over to dinner afterwards if you caught the late show. _Or_ if you're not feeling the whole artsy theme today, you might like the Lao Shin brothers doing a demonstration of some of their fighting styles down on Venice Beach. They should be there most of the day trading off between demos, answering questions, and teaching some moves to members of the audience who've had martial arts experience before. You could maybe just get some shopping done down there and check it out, or make a beach day out of it, whatever you want. You don't have to do any of that, of course, but that at least gives you some options so you don't have to be stuck with me all day."

He smiled good-naturedly in her general direction, waiting a beat before he announced, "I'm finished now."

"Oh good," Teva drawled sardonically. She perched on the foot of the bed, feeling annoyance snap and sizzle inside of her. "Bran, I don't want your money. This...it feels like you're trying to bribe me. I don't care about fancy dinners, or shows, or fucking pottery lessons. I just want you to say you're sorry and mean it."

Her legs lifted as she pulled them up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them protectively. "I want you to say you're sorry to me, not to my fucking voicemail, or because you've gotten yourself in a jam and you need somebody to bail you out."

Resting her cheek on her knee, Teva turned her face to Brandon's, watching him for some sort of reaction, something that fucking _mattered_.

"Do you even know why I was angry?" she asked rhetorically. Turning her gaze to the white blanket, Teva admitted, "It's because I was scared." The honesty cost her. Hearing it out loud brought back the sadness, the fear, and she closed her eyes to hold it all in. "Because I don't know when it's all going to be too much for you, and you're going to fling yourself off a cliff, or maybe I'll find you in the bathroom in a pool of blood, or maybe you'll just take some pills and go to sleep and never wake up.

"Do you know what that feels like? Living in fear like that, scared that the one person you've hinged everything on is going to snap and leave you forever?" Teva let a little bit of her anxiety creep into her voice, but channeled the rest of it into her left hand's grip on her right wrist. "I feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells, and you know that sooner or later, that's not going to work for me. I'm not..._an angel_; I'm a person, and a pretty fucking bitchy one at that. I don't know how to be so goddamn _nice_ all the time."

Clearing her throat against the strange tightness there, she concluded, "But I do think it's nice, you wanting to treat the Reyeses for helping you so much. That's sweet of you."

"I don't-"

Shit. This one wasn't going to work as Scott. The day had barely begun and he needed to break cover already (probably not a good sign), but this was an issue for Brandon. It had very little to do with his blindness or inability to walk, and everything to do with Teva being able to handle that damaged little boy in the attic. She needed his full honesty with this, as himself, no matter how messed up he was at the moment.

He let out a long, slow breath. "Where do I start with this? Well, the sorry, of course, and I _am_ sorry. Not just for running off yesterday, but for what I said, and for my moodiness, and making you feel like you have to come down here every day, and making you worry, or sad, or feeling helpless. I'm sorry, and I wish I could look you in the eyes and tell you that so you knew how very, _very_ sorry I am, and that really, I'm not _bribing_ you for forgiveness. I'm trying to give you a break so you can get away from this for a little bit, just have a little fun and enjoy a day with no stress. That's it. Go be _you_ for a day without having to _worry_ about anything. You don't _have_ to worry, okay?"

The bed shifted a little where he knew she was sitting. "How can I _not_?" she asked. "You told me once that you'd lost count of how many times you'd tried to find death, and you _laughed_ about it like it was some sort of sick game, like it didn't matter. Then there was that letter-"

"And I stopped myself," he reminded her. "No one was there to talk me down, or punch me in the face-do you remember that? The first time we hooked back up? You weren't nice to me, angel, you put me on the ground and screamed at me, and the funny thing was that I needed that. It was the first thing that had gotten through to me since I walked away from the Horizon 'run. I don't know where you got the idea from that you have to be nice to me all the time or walk on eggshells around me. One of the reasons I like you so much is because you don't take people's bullshit, even mine, and you challenge me. You _make_ me want to do better. Sometimes I honestly need someone to just kick me in the ass to get me back on track, which you're pretty fucking good at, so don't stop now just because I can't see. I call you my angel because you saved me, because you _keep_ saving me, whether you're armored up or angry or tired or scared, _anything_, not because I see halos or feathered wings or hear happy little harps playing when you step into the room."

He laughed a little self-consciously at that before he became serious again. "But I didn't have any of that when I put that gun to my head in the park. You weren't there to talk me off the ledge. It was just me, and I didn't pull the trigger, Teva. I didn't pull it. Yeah, the whole dying thing kind of _was_ a game to me before because I thought it didn't matter, but that was when I didn't think I had anyone around who cared. As long as there's someone to-"

The lump in his throat seemed to spring up from out of nowhere, as did that unbidden burn in his eyes. It took him a moment to get the sudden onslaught of emotion back under control before he could speak again, pushing forward with the truths Teva needed to hear. "I know I can be really selfish sometimes…to the point of Neanderthal intelligence levels, I know, but one of the reasons I couldn't pull that trigger was because I don't think I could ever...I know what it's like on the other side, angel, remember? Nate...I miss him. Every damn day of my life I miss him, but at the same time I think there'll always be some small part of me that hates him, and it kills me to feel that. I never want to hate my brother, not ever, but he left me. I wasn't-after everything we went through together, I still didn't _matter_ enough for him to stay here with me. I wasn't enough. I _know_ how it feels to realize you weren't important enough to the person that mattered most to you. I don't ever want you to have to go through that, especially not to witness it, to walk in and find the-" He closed his eyes and shook his head a little. "Not ever...or at least not to experience that emotion a second time because I know you probably _did_ go through that to some extent before Mrs. Reyes told you about Gabe, which was why I was so upset that it happened at all, but I already apologized for that, so-"

He stopped and sucked in another deep breath. They'd already gone over that when she'd first come back, and she'd forgiven him. There was no reason to get upset about it all over again, at least not openly.

"The point is," he continued, "I can't promise you that I'm not going to have some bad days here and there. I get...emotional. You can't think I don't realize that, or that I don't understand how hard it is to deal with me when I'm having a hard time. I'm trying though. I'm going to slip up once in a while, but I _am_ trying, I swear, and I'm going to try harder for you because I don't want you to have to worry. You don't have to play sugar and spice when I mess up though. It's not going to...I'm done playing games with death. Stupid as I might get sometimes, I'm not going to do to you what Nate did to me, okay? Whenever Death _does_ finally decide that he wants me, he can come for me himself. I'm not going to try to help him anymore. I promise you that. And for god's sake, if you need to haul off and give me a not-so-nice reminder to get it together, go right ahead and fucking do it. I think you might be the only one who will."

Another small laugh escaped him, hoping it might ease up the tension a little bit, at least enough for her to maybe feel a little better about everything. Maybe she'd even take her day, because he thought she really did kind of need it.

Laughing weakly, Teva uncurled her arms from around her legs, and shifted slightly. "Is it weird that I think it's really hot that you pronounced 'Neanderthal' correctly?"

That surprised a laugh out of her boyfriend, and he shook his head. "Yes, but I love you anyway."

Turning onto her hands and knees, she crawled up the bed until she could lay down stretched out next to Brandon, her head on his lap, and an arm over his legs, hugging him lazily. "You make me insane," Teva replied, but there was an 'I love you too'hidden underneath her warm words.

His fingers sifted through her hair, almost petting her, then slid down her back and that was definitely petting, but it was kind of nice so she let it slide. "I know," Brandon answered fondly.

They were silent for a long moment, just sort of sitting there absorbing each other's presence. It was quiet except for the general noises of the clinic, those beeps and whirs and the babble of voices that never really ceased.

"You should come with me today," Teva stated abruptly. "Get out of the clinic for awhile. Do something that doesn't involve parallel bars and hospital food."

"I don't know, Te-" Brandon began hesitantly, but she cut him off.

"No, hear me out," she said, sitting up a little more. "We'll go back to the safe house and get your cred stick, and get you into some clothes that aren't sweatpants. Like...shit that you would actually wear. Then we'll go do pottery together, and before you get all 'wah, I can't see' on me, let me point this out to you: wheel pottery is a tactile art, which is why I suggested it in the first place. You don't have to see it; you can _feel_ what you're creating. Okay? Then we can go do something else. Maybe we can find a cool lecture to attend on campus, or just go sit in the park for awhile. We could play question games. Then we'll go meet the Reyeses for dinner, and I'll bring you back to the clinic after. What do you think?" Teva poked her silent boyfriend in the side. "Say yes," she said. "And then we can talk to Peters about it and see what he has to say."

After a second of contemplative silence where he really considered what she was offering, Bran decided he liked the idea of getting out and feeling a little normal again, and then there was- "Oh my god, real clothes," Brandon moaned longingly. "That would be great."

"Good," Teva responded as she moved off his legs, "I'll go see what Peters-"

"_But_," Brandon continued, cutting her off with an apologetic smile. "There might be a few flaws in the plan, there-actual flaws, not excuses. One, if I'm doing pottery, you might have to maybe try doing some of that stuff on my arms that Eric showed you the other day. I think I might've overdone the exercise a little bit yesterday."

"Ya think?" she asked sarcastically, but there was a hint of humor in her voice. "I can probably manage that. What else?"

"Second, I'm not so sure they're going to just let me out of here after what happened. Everyone's still pretty mad at me, _reasonably_ mad at me, and I don't know if they'll think rewarding my jailbreak with an actual outing would be fair."

Her hand found its way to his thigh. "I can be pretty convincing. Anything else?"

He cringed as he brought up the last issue. "The safe house. What are we going to do about the stairs? Were you planning on carrying me all the way up?"

That was an issue he had thought about off and on during his incarceration, but hadn't bothered to bring it up because it still seemed like it was going to take a while before he'd finish his mile on the parallel bars. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be able to go back home before he was actually released. Now that the problem needed to be immediately dealt with, it was as good a time as any to question what they'd do about it later as well. Unless Teva planned on carrying his ass up and down those stairs every time he wanted to leave the apartment, they would need to find somewhere else to go until they were ready to head off to New Orleans.

"I thought I'd just tip you back in the chair, and roll you up, at least for today," Teva replied with a shrug. She had the muscle to do it, so why not? "That way you're not beholden to me if you want to get from the living room to the bedroom. You can roll yourself along."

Lacing her fingers with Brandon's, she said, "Long term, I'm not certain. It takes thirteen steps-don't laugh, I count when I walk sometimes because it's good to know the placement of things in the dark. Anyway, it takes thirteen steps to get from the bottom of the staircase to the landing at the top. The corner is wide enough to me to spin your chair around still completely unfolded, and I'm fairly certain you'll just squeak through the door. But what was my point?" She'd gone off track somewhere, tripping herself up with the current trouble, and the distant future. "Anyway, I guess if you can do thirteen steps by the time you're out of here, we won't need to worry about it. If you can't, we'll find some place on the ground floor somewhere, maybe a furnished apartment.

"Speaking of furnishings," Teva blurted out suddenly, sitting up a little as the thought struck her, "Do you want me to find out what happened to the stuff from your old apartment? And if you're coming to New Orleans, what do you want to do with all the things in your safe house? I mean...I don't really have a place to put two mattresses, but I do have a storage space in the basement that's pretty much empty. I'm not a big fan of holding on to things. If you want, I'll see about hiring a truck."

Brandon couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Baby, if I tried to move everything from the little nests I've got floating around town, we'd have enough stuff for-"

He stopped, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. There he'd been, worrying about how he was going to afford all his medical bills plus look into getting himself some sort of tech to help him cope with his loss of vision, and he had three safe houses (all of them hidden lofts like the one he'd been using) full of nice furnishings that he could just sell off. Hell, 'runners were always looking for prime locations for 'houses.' He could probably just post up a listing in the underground and sell off all three units, fully furnished and secure, for some pretty hefty nuyen.

"I'm an idiot. We sell it, everything I didn't bring from my old place. I don't need any of it...unless you want to track down my old couch that you didn't particularly like. I was a _little_ attached to that, but even if you could find it, it's probably not really practical to move that thing across states. Not like it's going to fit in my car."

It came out as a joke, but he really was going to miss that stupid couch. It _was_ that first stepping stone that sent Teva to his bed, after all. Plus, he'd kind of had it for a long time. But, oh well, everything that _really_ mattered to him fit in his duffel, so no big loss. The 'good' box, the 'bad' box, his weapons, and his journals; those items were all he ever really wanted outside of the standard basic human needs. Anything else could be replaced, and _should_ be replaced if he was actually expecting to start over with his new life, especially a new life that involved another person. In fact, he was actually looking forward to doing the whole domestic purchasing thing with Teva. Shopping with her was always kind of fun.

He smiled at the thought. New Orleans was going to be great.

"You have more than one of these safe houses?" Teva asked, disbelief colored with awe in her voice. She'd never invested in a single safe house herself. It wasn't necessary since she'd never pulled a 'run in New Orleans...or if she had, she'd left no evidence of it. New Orleans was her safe house. By keeping her jobs confined to places outside of her home base, she'd assured her own anonymity in New Orleans. The only way she'd get caught was if somebody happened to run into her on the street.

Of course, she was conveniently forgetting the time it had followed her home and blown a hole in her kitchen wall. Somewhere out there somebody knew who she was, where she was, and had gotten to her through a professional, and probably turned Maria as well. Granted, they'd made no other moves since then, but she probably should have moved to be safe. Instead Teva had settled in, staying in the same location because, well, she was curious. What enemy had she made? Had she been crossed off their list yet, marked in their files as 'not a current threat'? Or were they biding their time?

She should probably mention all this to Brandon at some point, shouldn't she?

Later, Teva told herself, and laughed. "Wow, B, kind of into your creature comforts, aren't you?"

He laughed a little sheepishly. "I suppose I am," Bran agreed.

"By the way, you've reminded me," Teva told him, slowly getting up, "I've decided not to call you 'baby' anymore. Not that you really needed to know this, but I figured I should tell you before you notice and think I'm punishing you in the way of passive-aggressive females all over the globe by doing so silently. Anyway, I made a very unflattering comparison to a fit-throwing child yesterday in my head. After that, I've decided 'baby' has terrible connotations as a term of endearment. In fact, I may eschew terms of endearment altogether to avoid having more of them being corrupted." Reaching back, she patted her boyfriend's hand. "Again, this is not a demotion."

"Okay, no more 'baby'," Brandon agreed with a little wry twist of his lips. "Does this mean I have to stop calling you 'angel'?"

Teva grinned and laughed, somehow lighter than she'd been when she first walked in the room. "No, you can keep your stupid nickname. I've decided angels are terrifying creatures. None of that little white wings, bare-assed baby shit. I'm talking Michael and the flaming sword of God type of angels."

Brandon started laughing, and swiped a hand over his face. "Oh, I do love you, you maniac. Only you, Teva. Only you would turn such a sweet term into something harsh."

"Mm," she shrugged, hitting the call light next to the bed, "But infinitely more suited to my personality."

Darlene showed up a few minutes later with a chipper hello. "What's going on, gang?"

"I want to take Brandon out for the day," Teva announced without pre-amble.

The nurse tapped her lip thoughtfully. "Hm..."

"I'll get him out of your hair for a few hours," she shrugged, "People will have some more time to cool off, he'll stop being such an antsy fucker-"

"Hey," Brandon protested.

"Shh," Teva hissed, and went on speaking. "We're not going to go do anything crazy, just a sedate day. We'll go do some pottery, and go out for dinner later. It'll be good for him to get out. You know it will." She widened her eyes a little pleadingly, to which Darlene sighed.

"Fine, I'll go talk Peters into it," she huffed, and headed for the door. Over her shoulder, Darlene called teasingly, "You're lucky you've got such an awesome chick, B."

"I _do_ have an awesome chick," Brandon agreed with a loving smile, reaching out to brush his fingers across Teva's arm.

So Brandon the fuck-up hadn't done such a horrible job of making things right, after all. Admittedly sometimes his intense emotions could be used for the powers of good as well as evil, if used in the proper situations. Maybe he didn't _have_ to play a character all the time to get through this; just when things got too hard. He could easily slip into character, be Scott the New Zealand actor when he felt himself starting to slip. It would just be his emergency coping mechanism instead of becoming a full time gig. Teva would probably be happier with that anyway.

Just like _he_ found himself incredibly enthused with the concept of going out.

...But, wait, he was going out. _Out_ out.

"I need a shower," he proclaimed. "We have to do that here. I mean, no, we don't _have_ to do that here, but it'd be a lot easier than getting me in and out of the shower stall at the house. But what do I wear? I can't put _these_ back on, they're filthy." He picked at his sweatshirt. "Will the scrubs be okay on the train? Or will that look stupid? Are we taking the train?"

"Yes, we're taking the train, and no, you won't look stupid in the scrubs. In case you forgot, pretty much everyone in the medical field wears them, and none of _them_ look stupid," Teva reminded him. "It'll be fine, trust me. No freak outs."

He scoffed for a second. He wasn't freaking out. No, wait, yes, he was, not as bad as his first time going to the pool, but steadily climbing there. Unlike his little jaunt around the neighborhood the day before, there would be a much better chance of running into people he actually knew in the areas of town where they'd be heading. At Cardigan's he'd _definitely_ run into people that he knew, if even just the few members of the wait staff who might recognize him.

So much for his initial assumption that he could just avoid the world until he bounced over to New Orleans; not that he still wanted to stick to that plan. He hadn't accounted for 'stir crazy' winning out over embarrassment or awkwardness at the time. He realized now that hiding out from his city was making him more insane than anything at the moment, but still, the butterflies were already starting to slam into one another in his stomach at Mach speeds. People would see him as _weak._

Maybe Scott needed to come back out, after all, just for a little bit. Closing his eyes, he blew out everything that the confident actor was not, and breathed in the notion that this was all just another part of the method, of living his research. When he opened his eyes again, his lips spread into a relaxed smile.

"Right, the scrubs. It's not like I'll be in a hospital gown flashing everyone my sexy legs." He laughed at his own joke. "Then you can play dress up with me all you want once we get home. Just make sure the clothes match, alright?"

"Noooo," Teva drawled, reaching over to playfully smack her boyfriend's forearm, "I'm going to dress you like a doofus on purpose."

"No fair," Brandon protested, "I have no way to verify if what I'm wearing is acceptable."

"Shut up," she shot back at him. "Are you saying that I'm a bad dresser?" Silence met her question. Teva gasped, and flopped on the bed, clutching her chest dramatically. "Oh no, the heart-pains. My boyfriend thinks he has a better sense of style than I do."

"I do have a better sense of style," he commented, but reached out affectionately to pat her stomach consolingly.

That just made Teva laugh harder as she gasped out, "Oh, really? That may be so-" she had to pause to breathe again, then continued, "-but it's totally impractical. Do you know how much dry clean only stuff you own? B, who uses a dry cleaner anymore?"

Laughing lightly, Brandon drummed his fingers on her stomach. "I do. It behooves a man to look good."

Teva started laughing so hard that she actually snorted, which made her explode with giggles even harder and snort again because she couldn't get enough air.

That was, naturally, when the good doctor and Darlene walked into the room. They eyed the strange pair, shared an amused look, and then Dr. Peters cleared his throat. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all," Brandon replied, taking charge for the moment since Teva still hadn't quite gotten herself back under control again. "Come on in. Ignore this one," he said, lowering his chin to indicate the woman flung out across his legs.

"Unfortunately," Peters started, tapping Teva on the side of one of her legs that was dangling off the bed, "I need this one to pay attention since she'll be responsible for your care today, Brandon."

Teva kept giggling, but was attempting to take calming breaths in between laughs. "Okay...okay, I am _under_ control." She sat up, still stifling little chuckles.

Brandon backhanded her lightly on the arm to get her to stop, which earned him a similar swat back right against his chest. His oncoming retaliation was stopped by the token Peters throat clear.

"I see we're a little giddy about the concept of going out today..._again_," the doctor started, and Brandon knew Peters was giving him a stern little glare. There hadn't been too much heat behind the words though, and the doc continued speaking before Brandon could say anything about the small jab. "You seem to be feeling all right this morning."

Brandon heard the underlying question beneath the statement and responded with a confident grin. "I feel great, doc."

"And your arms?"

Teva responded for him, and Brandon had to cut off his own chortle as for some crazy reason he pictured her raising her hand up when she spoke, just like Switch had done the first day they'd all met. "I'm going to fix those," she volunteered.

"And where are your glasses?" the doc asked.

Brandon hesitated. "Uhhhh..."

"Uh-huh. You're lucky it was a little overcast yesterday. How many times do I have to remind you that-"

"-my eyes are fine, but I could melt them out of my head if I decide to accidentally stare at the sun for half a second or more, I got it," Brandon sassed. His remark was met with another of Teva's swats against his leg.

"I'll make sure he wears them," she assured the doc, and Brandon could hear the plastic clack a little as Peters handed Teva the glasses. He hated those things. Not that he really minded wearing sunglasses, in general. If it was bright enough out they didn't cut down his ability to see movement against light _too_ badly, but the ones the clinic gave him were big and ugly, and the staff was delusional if they thought he couldn't tell how gaudy those glasses were just by touch.

Darlene let out a little chuckle from somewhere behind Peters. "You can probably buy new ones while you're out."

"_If_ they meet the proper UV specs," Peters added, and informed Teva exactly what to look for. He also went over some general precautionary measures, things Brandon was sure everybody knew about by then-watch for when he starts looking like he's too tired, don't let him get too brave about doing too many physical things on his own, don't let him wander off, stay within easy hearing range particularly in crowded areas, don't let him eat anything outside of his dietary limitations-

Brandon rolled his eyes. "Don't let me have pointy objects, ask me if I have to use the potty every once in a while, and if I'm good I can have an ice cream cone. We got it. Can I go take my shower now? And if I ask really nicely, can I please have the dark blue scrubs? I don't want to be in the green or purple when I'm on the train."

"I think I can wrangle up some blue," Darlene answered. "I'll put them in the bathroom for you, then bring up your breakfast. Eggs and toast, but _no_ bacon. Sorry."

"That's okay, I'm eating steak tonight, anyway," Brandon said with a wink.

"Brandon," Peters warned, and sighed. "Teva, _please_ make sure he behaves himself, and bring him right back here if there are any issues."

Once again, Brandon jumped in before anybody else could speak. He was a grown man, for Christ's sake, not a baby. Just because he had _one_ day of being a dumbass didn't mean he didn't know how to monitor himself. "I'll be fine, doc, I'm just messing with you. Best behavior, Scout's honor."

"Something tells me you weren't ever a Scout." Peters' footsteps backed away from the bed towards the door, but before he left he offered one more piece of advice. "Try to have some fun today. I'd like to see a smile on your face when you get back."

Brandon _did_ smile to that. That was a doctor's order he was certain he could follow.

After Brandon's breakfast, Teva and Darlene got him situated in the shower, his clean scrubs set by the door. The nurse left discreetly saying, "When you guys are ready to go, just stop by the desk and sign out, okay? We'll hold your room, but we need to keep a written record of our long-term patients and when they're going. You might not know this, but Eric has to sign you out every time you guys go to the pool. Anyway, it just keeps us from going into a panic if shift change happens and nobody knows where you are." She chuckled a little to herself, much to Brandon's chagrin, and shut the door.

Grinning, Teva turned on the taps. "Man, you are in the dog house today," she joked.

"I know," he moaned pitifully, "And I feel terrible."

"You should," Teva replied as she adjusted the water temperature, but her voice wasn't unkind when she said it. She just said it matter-of-factly, and then grabbed the shower head. Much to her surprise, a pleasant one at that, Brandon insisted on washing himself, at least until his arms grew too tired and he gave up with a sigh.

"Angel?" he pleaded, obviously having reached his limit.

"Yep," she agreed, and picked up the wash cloth, resuming where he'd left off. Still, it was the first time that Brandon had done more than sit passively and let others administer to him. Teva decided to see this as a good sign. Once he was clean, she decided that maybe she'd take advantage of the warm water, and the pulse of the shower, and do the magic fingers-stretching routine right there. "Hold on," Teva declared, and scampered off to take off her clothes for a second. If she turned the shower on full blast like she wanted, she was going to end up drenched as well. So it was that they did Brandon's stretching/massage/pain relief right there underneath the water, her humming quietly as she worked.

Finally, it seemed they were ready to go. They stopped by the desk, and Darlene came around with her tablet, handing the specialized stylus to Brandon and placing it where he needed to sign. "There you go," the nurse stated cheerily, "You are officially out for the day. Have a good time, guys."

"We will," they intoned almost at the same time, which was a little creepy.

Darlene shot them a wide-eyed look. "Why am I suddenly reminded of evil children in horror movies?"

Shrugging innocently, Teva replied, "I have no idea."

"We're aaaallllways gooood," Brandon continued, making his voice _extra_ creepy for Darlene's benefit.

Shuddering, all she said was, "Guh, get the hell out of here. I'm gonna have nightmares now. Thanks, B."

Laughing, they went on their way.

"Glasses on," Teva instructed as they moved from out of the building's shadow. "It's bright and cheery out today."

Brandon sneered, but slipped the glasses on his face anyway. It was obvious that she wasn't going to take him anywhere until he did as he was told. Once the sun hit his face though, and he felt how warm it was, it didn't seem like such a big deal. _Funny,_ he mused, wondering at the fact that they had been out that door and down the street to the park a million times, yet somehow it _did_ feel brighter and cheerier than normal. It was all about breaking out of his boundaries, and this time he could relax and be happy while doing it instead of being paranoid about getting caught or mugged or hit by a car.

Getting on the metro line was...interesting. It took a minute to find the elevators because they were out of sight around a corner, most passengers choosing to just simply take the escalators down to their section. It was even more strange being _on _the train, his chair parked in the special handicap space. He kept feeling like he was somehow in the way, like people would have to squeeze around him to get to their seats despite the fact that he had seen how big that chair space was nearly every day of his life since he'd been old enough to take the train. He'd also been sitting in the normal seats or standing in the aisle all those days, which was definitely far too narrow for a chair to fit in, and that was the more dominant mental image he had in his mind. It made him tense up a little bit at every stop, like he needed to move _somewhere_ as the people were passing by.

"Relax, B," Teva told him after the third stop, "if anyone was going to step on you it would've been that huge orc that got off at the last station. _That_ was a guy who could've used one less soyburger."

Brandon barked out a laugh, but made himself settle a little easier in his seat for the duration of the trip. There was another scavenger hunt for the elevator once they reached their stop, then they were on their way to the safe house.

The walk to the safe house was becoming almost routine. Teva could probably have done it in her sleep. She walked in backwards with Brandon's chair, and yanked him through just before the door swung closed. Her heels hit the bottom step. "Be glad you're blind," she declared. "This would probably look terrifying." That was as much warning as she gave before backing up the stairs, tipping Brandon's chair back on an angle as soon as the backs of the wheels hit the first step.

"Oh my god!" he shouted, gripping the handles. "A little more warning next time, Teva! Jesus Christ, I almost shat myself."

She chuckled in reply, and murmured, "Sorry. I thought you'd have realized what I planned to do when I backed you in here."

"Uh, no," Brandon replied succinctly.

Teva didn't answer because she started going backwards up the stairs, rolling Brandon up each of the steps. "Sorry for the bumpy ride," Teva apologized as she took a brief rest about halfway up the stairs. "Jesus, I can't believe this is the lightweight model," she grumbled under her breath as she held the chair suspended on that crazy angle. After another second, she started again, making it the rest of the way up the stairs no problem.

"Yeah, okay," she declared as they reached the landing, and was able to set Brandon's chair upright again. Teva began spinning them around the corner to the door, still walking backwards as there wasn't quite enough room to turn the chair around. "If you can't do the stairs by the time you're out of the clinic, we're definitely going to have to crash someplace with a ground floor. That was harder than I thought it was going to be."

Brandon let out a shaky, relieved breath, and said, "Well, thank god you didn't drop me."

"Oh, shut up, like I would ever," Teva shot back, accessing the security system through her comm and opening the door. "I totally had you the whole time, and I got my workout in for the day. Grr, arms of steel!" Her boyfriend started chuckling as she wheeled him in saying, "Welcome home! I cleaned up, so there's nothing on the floor."

"Here," she spun him around, "Now you're facing inside. Roll around to your heart's content! But if you try to get up out of there by yourself, I'll stab you through the thigh to make sure you can't leave that chair." Teva was absurdly cheerful as she nonchalantly threatened her lover and closed the apartment door. "You know what? You should call the Reyeses and officially invite them out before Adelle starts thawing things for supper." Tossing her comm in Brandon's lap, she headed for the bedroom. "Now where did you say that credstick was?" she called over her shoulder.

"I can't-" Brandon started as Teva walked down the hall into the bedroom, "-see the numbers," he finished quietly as he fingered the comm. Maybe she had it set for voice command. "It's, uh, in the dresser, third drawer down," he called out in answer to her question as he rolled himself slowly forward, trying to remember what the exact distances were between rooms and furniture. Not that it would really matter all that much. Knowing how many steps it took to cross a room didn't exactly calculate easily to wheel rotations on his chair.

He didn't go very far before he picked up Teva's commlink box, and shook his head as he traced the edges of the familiar unit. It was an old one, bigger than most people had nowadays in an age where the rich could afford to have their comms built right into their larger pieces of jewelry. This was like when years ago people still carried pagers in the age of cellphones.

"You should upgrade your comm, angel, this thing is a dinosaur!" he hollered.

"Like you should talk," she called back as she continued doing whatever it was she was doing in his room. Probably picking out clothes for him, now that he thought about it. "How old is your car again?"

He had to smile at that. "Point."

Very carefully, and only running into a wall once, he made his way across the living room and into the hallway, finding the doorway to his bedroom. Holding up her comm with a little bit of a sheepish look he waved it at her for a second before speaking. "I wasn't sure if you set this to respond to your voice only, like most people do, but even if you didn't, I don't know how exactly you listed Nana and Tata, so..."

He was careful to make it sound like he just assumed she had set it for voice command. If she hadn't and just chucked it at him in a moment of forgetfulness, he didn't want to embarrass her or make her feel bad. There were probably going to be enough of those moments, as it was, without him needing to rub salt in the wounds with the mistakes he was able to catch onto. It wasn't every day that a person had to adjust to a loved one's sudden blindness, after all.

"Oh," she responded in an _oops_ kind of tone. "I'll just...here-" The comm was taken from him, and then returned a second later.

"Thank you," he said with a genuine smile as he waited for someone to pick up the other line. "Hi, Nana," he started once the elderly woman's voice greeted him. He made his way back out to the front room as he happily informed Mrs. Reyes about the day's plans, leaving Teva to ponder over his wardrobe. It occurred to him that he should probably remind her about Cardigan's being a classier place than the norm. That meant whatever they were wearing to pottery probably wouldn't be suitable for the restaurant, and they'd either need to come back to change or bring their nicer clothes with them. That'd be the smarter decision, both to save time _and_ another harrowing trip up the stairs. They could just stash their stuff in the back of-

_Oh,_ he thought with a growing smile. _Teva gets to finally drive my car._

* * *

**TBC…**


	11. Chapter 11

Coming Home

Chapter Eleven

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Teva could have smacked herself for forgetting that Brandon wouldn't be able to see the numbers to dial out, and kind of appreciated that he didn't make a big deal out of it. She returned to picking out clothes, doing it up a little snazzier for their dinner later on, but also picking out a more casual shirt for Brandon to wear right now. It probably wasn't up to his standards, but whatever. He wasn't the one who was going to have to struggle to get him out of them after he'd worn himself out.

She decided, wrenching an old-looking button up out of the closet, something that looked like he'd fished it out of a discount bin at the thrift shop, that he could just put that over his lap to protect his jeans.

Hearing Brandon finish up his conversation, Teva decided she ought to go fetch her boyfriend and get him undressed. Er..._dressed_.

Sliding into the living room, she whistled. "Hey, gorgeous, wanna get changed now?"

Bran's head swiveled in her direction, and he nodded, beginning to push toward her.

She let him come to her, stopping him with a foot on the edge of one his footrests when he got close enough, and swinging around behind his chair to push him the rest of the way. "Don't wear yourself out just yet." And the evil temptress in the back of her mind giggled, and pointed out there were much better ways to do so, and they were alone, really alone for the first time in forever, and-

_Behave,_ she scolded herself, pushing Brandon the rest of the way into his bedroom.

Of course, mid-way through slipping his shirt off, she proved herself too much of a slut for even her own self-control. It started innocently enough, her saying in a surprised voice, "You know, I don't think I've kissed you hello yet today."

"You didn't," Brandon answered with a tiny, self-mocking grin. "I think you were still a little angry."

"Well, I'm sorry," she said, and leaned in.

One kiss led to many though, and then to other things. Brandon stopped long enough to ask, "Won't we be late?"

Her answering laugh was low and throbbing with want as she replied, "Who gives a fuck?"

Later, after they were finished-yay, fucking in a bed was awesome! Sometimes it really was the little luxuries in life that were the best. Anyway, after they were done, Brandon asked curiously, "So how late are we?"

Teva glanced at the display on her comm. "Not. We've got half an hour."

"We'll never make it," Brandon told her.

She slapped his arm playfully. "Don't be so negative. I have magical powers. We'll be ten minutes late at the most. We'll just miss the introductions and opening preamble. That's like missing the previews at the movies. Nobody cares." Rolling off the bed, Teva reached for her clothes, and then his. "Okay," she began cheerily, "let's try this getting dressed thing again."

Despite the notion of being late to something that was growing on Brandon as an event he would probably really enjoy, and the awkwardness of trying to hurry in helping Teva get him dressed, and the slight twinge of concern that she was pretty damn positive about how fast she could get _his_ car from point A to point B in Los Angeles, he couldn't help but feel anything but excitedly happy. Yes, having sex in the comfort of his own bed played a major part in that, but it was also just the normalcy in their day since they'd left the clinic. _Mostly_ normal, anyway, considering. Being late to something because they felt like taking a little romp 'n roll through his sheets was so damn normal it almost hurt, and he loved it.

"Here, carry this," Teva said, dropping a bag into his lap once he was back into his chair.

He frowned as he wrapped his hand around it. "Are these our nice clothes? They're going to wrinkle if we leave them in here."

The chair began to move forward. "They'll be fine. Besides, if you're that worried about it we can always pull them back out once we're in the car. I just don't want to have to worry about juggling hangers and everything while I get you back down the stairs. This'll be easier."

Oh god, the stairs. He had already forgotten about that part. If going up had been terrifying-

"Head's up, I'm tilting you back now," she warned.

Keeping one hand latched onto the bag, he gripped the armrest hard with the other as he was leaned backwards far enough to where he felt like he must've been looking at the ceiling. That was a gross exaggeration, he knew, but since she'd be pushing him forwards this time it did mean she had to tilt him a little further back than before in order to account for gravity. Tipping him down out of his chair by accident would be a very bad thing.

"Oh god, I'm going to die," he got out on a frightened breath as they went down the first step.

"Thanks for the...vote of confidence," she ground out as she got him down the next few stairs, maybe dropping him down each step a little harder than necessary.

He clamped his mouth shut after that, not wanting to irritate her any further or break her concentration. When they got to the bottom he would've slipped down to the floor and kissed the ground had he been able, but she didn't give him the option.

"Where's your car?" she asked as she quickly shoved him out the door.

"Uh, there's a storage garage around the corner to the right. She's in one of those-314. We'll have to leave the chair outside to get me in though. It's a little bit of a tight squeeze between the wall and car doors."

He was actually insanely glad that he used the locker instead of just a regular parking garage. It was a habit he had gotten into any time he had to be away from his apartment for any extended period of time. More than once it had saved him from having to bail Weena out of an impound lot or from paying an exorbitant amount of nuyen to a pay-by-night garage. After more than a month of not being used this time, neither option would've been preferable. As it was though, she was safe, paid up ahead three months, and out of the weather.

_Good call, Brandon,_ he congratulated himself with a proud smile as Teva stopped him presumably outside his unit, then maneuvered him so he could punch in his security code.

Brandon rolled himself up to the back of his car once the bay door was opened, ran his hand along the bumper for a second, then leaned over to stretch his arms across the trunk in a kind of hug.

"Men and their toys," Teva laughed. "Come on, B, let's get you in there."

As she was getting Brandon situated, Teva had to figure that he was going to do something with the security on the car, because she knew he'd originally had it programmed to where the car wouldn't start without him in the driver's seat. Since there was a bit of a difference in their body shapes and distribution of weight, she had to imagine the car was smart enough to tell the difference. She folded up the wheelchair to its smallest size, and stuck it in the back seat, much to Brandon's horror.

"Oh, god, watch the leather," he murmured anxiously.

Rolling her eyes, she drawled, "B, there's no trunk room for this in your tiny-ass relic. It's gotta go in here." Shoving it the rest of the way in, the folded up footrest squeaked against the leather.

Brandon also squeaked. "Nothing tore, did it?"

"I'm gonna kill you," Teva muttered in response, and pushed the driver's seat back into place. "So if I get in, your car alarm's not going to go off, is it?"

He shook his head. "No, I disabled that security feature, so go ahead, sit away."

Men and their cars, Teva thought to herself as she pushed the start button, and the engine roared to life. She backed out of the garage, then got out to shut the door and lock it back up. Normally driving was a pretty zen-like activity for her. She liked the way her body kind of melded with the machine, but not like a rigger. It wasn't in her head; she wasn't a part of the vehicle. She could just feel the subtle shifts in the engine when approaching the points where she'd have to switch gears, and performing that intricate dance of clutch-shifter-gas pedal was a lot of fun.

Knowing that Brandon was figuratively on the edge of his seat the whole time took some of the fun out of it. He was anxious about the upholstery, about her driving, about her navigation, about what she'd do to his car. Jesus, she wasn't an idiot. She knew how to drive, and she'd pulled up navigation on her comm so it flashed up in the corner of her field of vision, and-

Wasn't sex supposed to make a person more relaxed? She didn't feel very relaxed. She felt anxious.

She was thinking about those pottery wheels, and about being young and frustrating Mrs. Franklin because when it came to the arts, she just couldn't be taught. Teva sucked at art, and she was about to go suck at art in front of a bunch of people she didn't know, but Brandon was excited. It would be good for him. It wasn't painting, but it was some kind of artistic outlet, and she had a feeling that he'd enjoy it. She would probably collapse every pot she tried to make, get frustrated, and give up. Hell, she was already frustrated, and they hadn't even gotten there yet.

"You know what I've been trying to figure out?" she blurted out, sounding thoughtful.

"Hm?"

"Cardigan's. I mean, that's a sweater, right? Who the hell would name a restaurant after a sweater? That's just stupid."

"Because it's warm and comfortable?" Brandon guessed. How the hell would _he_ know? It was a nice place and the food was good. Why would the name matter?

She was probably trying to distract him from the fact that he was clearly nervous about his car, as indicated by his tight grip on the 'oh shit' handle. His knuckles were probably white by now, and not even because he was afraid for his own safety. It was all about being mortified by how Teva was taking some of those turns in his rare little classic.

Why he had ever thought letting her drive would be fun was now beyond him. She'd _warned_ him about her speed demon tendencies.

Actually, he did know why. It was because it _might_ have been fun if a chair wasn't probably digging gouges into his leather, and if he could actually see to determine whether Teva had the control over her driving that she claimed to. That was odd in itself, he knew. Most people preferred to _close_ their eyes when riding with a reckless driver, or to try to backseat dive, but he paid attention to the person behind the wheel as opposed to the environment. He'd actually done undercover stints as a getaway driver a time or two, and knew what to look for in a person experienced at handling a car. He'd never seen Teva drive before though, so he had no way to make any of his normal judgments on her capabilities.

That being said, he tried not to look like a complete nervous wreck once she'd parked the car and proceeded to mangle up his poor seats again as she yanked the chair back out.

"I'm being careful," she shot out as she settled the chair on the ground.

He cringed. "Sorry." He hadn't meant for the whole 'yanked out' assumption to be written all over his face.

She remained quiet as she helped him get out of the car and pushed him into Le Petit, making him wonder if he'd inadvertently pissed her off. He would have to try to be more laid back on the next leg of their journey, difficult as that would be. Scott liked his car just as much as Brandon did.

"Oh, welcome, a few latecomers, I see," a woman's voice rang out, complete with what sounded like a very real French accent. "Please, sit wherever you'd like. I'll come and help you get started in a moment."

Teva parked the chair and laid something across Brandon's lap, which he felt and recognized as one of his disguise shirts by the little wooden buttons up near the collar. That was fine to get dirty so he didn't comment on it, and instead folded his hands between his knees while he waited for the French woman to come back and tell them what to do.

* * *

Pottery went about as well as Teva had assumed it was going to. She collapsed seven pots before she got frustrated, and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Then she stayed in there for fifteen minutes, and another five outside smoking a cigarette before venturing back into the fifth level of hell.

Brandon was having fun though. After he explained his condition, the teacher made sure to give him some extra instruction, teaching him how to feel when a pot was ready to be taken off the wheel.

It kind of pissed her off that her blind boyfriend was better at this than she was, but she knew that wasn't right. It was more or less anger at herself for not being able to get it. She'd never been able to do this sort of thing. Tamsin had all the artistic gift in the family. Teva had no patience for painting or music or, it seemed, sculpture.

The teacher, a nice French artist named Jeannette, looked like she was about to say something, but apparently the look on Teva's face convinced her to keep her counsel to herself.

Eventually she stopped making an effort at all, because she realized the more she fucked with the clay, the more it was drying out, ruining it for the other customers who actually had a chance in hell of doing passably good at this.

Why was she so awful at art? Well, it was just a special talent, she guessed.

Finally, it was over, and Brandon had three different pots drying. The teacher said she'd fire them all, and they could come pick them up next week.

"So what did you make?" Brandon asked. Obviously her silence and leave me the fuck alone vibes directed at the instructor had worked, because Bran apparently had no clue just how awful that entire thing had been for her.

Attempting to put some cheer into her voice, she told him honestly, "Nothing. I ruined everything."

"What?" he asked, clearly surprised. "But..._everything?_"

Though it galled her to admit to any weakness, Teva laughed and said, "I think you're underestimating just how abysmal one person can be at art." It struck Teva as a little funny that Brandon didn't realize her initial suggestion of pottery lessons had been entirely for his benefit, not her own. He was the creative one between the two of them. What interest would she have in pottery when she'd already declared to him just how inept she'd been at artistic pursuits as a child? The only art form she'd ever expressed any talent at was dance, but it wasn't like they could go do that, now could they? Then she recalled that his memory was still on the fritz, and it made more sense to her.

When Brandon was silent for a moment, she sought to change the subject by saying, "So what would you like to do now? We've got five hours before our dinner reservations."

Brandon had to think about that for a minute. He had almost turned the question right back around to ask what _she_ wanted to do because this was supposed to be a day of relaxation for her too. Between the anger she had still been feeling that morning, the stairs, the car ride, and the frustration he imagined she must've felt at not being able to make anything out of the clay, it didn't seem like she was really having all that good of a day aside from the detour in sex-land earlier. He had thought she would've enjoyed the pottery session since she had been the one to bring it up in the first place, but now that he thought about it, she had been awfully quiet during the whole thing. Guilt set in a little bit at the thought, and grew a little heavier as he found that he was almost afraid to ask her to pick an activity.

Truth be told, he was starting to feel tired already. In the clinic where things stayed pretty subdued outside of his PT, he was taking shorter and shorter naps, and was able to remain alert and active for longer periods of time in between. It wouldn't be too much longer before his sleep schedule returned to something more normal for him, which was semi-late nights and early mornings, but this was the first day of extended activity that fell outside of his usual routine. He didn't want to suggest just taking him somewhere to sleep for a few hours-that'd be a waste of his freedom and the remainder of what was supposed to be a fun outing for Teva as well-but at the same time he was afraid that Teva's activity of choice would be too much for him to handle.

That seemed incredibly selfish. He could stick it out for her just like she'd been doing for him since she'd gotten into town. At the same time though, she'd be upset with him if he wasn't honest, so he settled for letting her decide given the knowledge of his current status.

"I think it's _your_ turn to pick," he started, "but maybe keep it a little low key? At least for today? And if I pass out on you it doesn't mean I'm bored with whatever it is that we're doing. It just means I was tired." The thought occurred to him that if they were doing something outside, she probably wouldn't even notice whether he fell asleep or not under those stupid glasses.

"Oh!" he blurted out. "I _do_ want to buy new glasses. That's a must for the day. I don't really dig the whole bug-eye fad."

"I think there are some shops around here where we could probably get you some different shades," Teva agreed, turning toward the greater concentration of businesses in the area.

"But," she began hesitantly, "if you're tired I can take you back to the clinic for a few hours. I don't think they'd mind too much. Or I suppose I could take you to the safe house again."

Brandon cringed.

Chuckling, she asked, "The stairs weren't your favorite thing, huh?"

"Not really," he agreed. "Not that I don't trust you. It just feels completely and utterly terrifying."

"Sorry," Teva told him, though she really wasn't all that sorry. She knew her capabilities. She'd just been surprised, was all, by just how much that stupid chair weighed. At no point in either trip had she lost her grip, or had her arms given out. In fact, it was probably the best arm workout she'd had in a long while. "You know," she said as they approached a solid block of shops and she began looking in the windows for somebody who carried sunglasses, "I really don't care what we do. Seriously, if all you want to do is take a nap, I'll take you somewhere that you can nap. I can entertain myself.

"Ah ha, there's an eyes 'r us up ahead. They should have some shades with the proper UV specs," she noted cheerfully.

Well, shit, Teva had knocked the ball back into Brandon's court where he didn't want it. For someone that kept proclaiming to be such a not nice person, she was awfully generous with her time.

"I don't want to go back to the clinic either," he said as she pushed him through the shop door, jingling the little bell that announced their entrance. "I'm there enough as it is. Maybe we can just head over to Venice Beach? You can catch that demonstration if you want, and I'd be happy just being out in the sun listening to the ocean. Actually, you can probably just leave me in the car in the south lot with the windows cracked, and I'd be fine with that. You could do whatever you wanted then."

"I think California has laws about leaving pets in the car on hot days," she joked as she ruffled his hair, but there was a hint of disapproval in her tone.

Anything he was going to say in response was cut off by a helpful store clerk asking if they needed any help finding anything. Teva launched straight into the prescribed specs for what Brandon needed, after which the clerk led them to some part of the store that had exactly what they needed. The next however-many-minutes (Brandon still had almost zero sense of time without someone clueing him in) were spent playing sunglasses fashion model. Teva would put something on his face, tell him to turn his head this way or that, make either some sort of positive or negative sound, then swap out what he was wearing for another pair.

"Oh, _those_ are the ones," she announced happily when it seemed like they must've been running out of options.

Brandon reached up and felt along the frames, trying to get a mental image of what they looked like. They seemed okay in size and shape, nothing really unusual that could clue him in on why that particular pair had been chosen over the others. Sometimes just the slightest difference in cut could alter a pair of sunglasses from attractive to hideous, something he wouldn't be able to decipher by touch alone.

He put them back on his face. "So on a scale of blech to sexy, how good do I look?"

Her arms draped across his shoulders and crossed behind his neck. "Mmm, I might have to get jealous and fight off some beach bitches."

"I look that good?" he asked, happy with the affirmation that they'd be headed to the coast.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed through the kiss she planted on his lips. She pulled back and spun his chair around, shouting out to the clerk. "We'll take these!"

Brandon laughed. "Wow, just announce it to the whole store, angel."

"I was being subtle. I almost announced how hot you look right now. In fact, I think I still will." She sucked in a breath.

"No!" Brandon nearly shouted himself, reaching his arms up in an attempt to find her mouth so he could cover it. As she was behind him, it was easy enough for her to dodge his hands, chuckling as she wheeled him to the counter.

"Okay, stop," she giggled. "Let's pay for these and get you back out in the sun. We've got to work on that tan of yours."

The beach was crowded like it had been the first time they'd gone, and what appeared to be its permanent state. Venice was a hugely popular area for both tourists and locals. Sadly, they were going to have to skip over the hot, glittering slopes of sand. It'd be impossible for them to get Brandon's chair through the shifting surface.

Teva bought some suntan lotion at a vendor's stall, and a pair of cheap sunglasses for herself. Just something to keep the glare out of her eyes. Then she handed the bottle of lotion to Brandon, and said, "You might wanna put some on your face and anywhere else you're likely to burn."

Laughing a little, he asked, "Am I that pale?"

"Honey," she drawled, laying on the Louisiana purr a little thicker than usual, "You're two shades away from translucent. Pretty soon they'll be calling you Ghost, but it'll have nothing to do with your line of work."

Brandon chuckled, and fumbled the cap open, squirting some of the white lotion into his hand. With his other hand, he plucked his glasses off, and began to carefully apply the stuff on his face. "You'll have to tell me when it's rubbed in all the way," he said.

"Will do," she chirped, and kept pushing them along the walk.

Finally, there was something convenient about that chair. People dodged around them instead of Teva having to worry about shouldering her way through. Were there stares? Yes, some. Seeing someone handicapped was rarer now than it had been fifty years ago. Technology had given them so many advances in the field of cyberware and bioware. Lose an eye? Get cybereyes. Lose an arm? They could replace that too. Want the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound? That's cool, just get yourself a new pair of legs. Seeing somebody wheelchair bound outside of a hospital was strange for most people now. So yeah, there were stares, and people hurried to get out of their way, and some of them shot her sympathetic looks or let their eyes linger on Brandon with pitying moues on their faces. She was kind of glad he couldn't see right then, because they would've just triggered his insecurities.

"Hey," she started as they began drawing up to something that actually peaked her interest, "Do you mind if we stop at the chess tables for a bit?"

"No, not at all," Brandon replied, "Though I'll admit I'm kind of surprised you'd ask."

Teva shrugged self-consciously, hardly even aware that she was doing it. "I like chess. It's...I get it. There are set rules, and a finite combination of moves, and...it's all about strategy."

"I guess I just didn't picture you enjoying something so sedate," her boyfriend said after a moment. It was one of those moments where they each realized just how much they didn't know about each other, how much more there was to discover. Despite all of the trials and tribulations they'd been through together in such a short amount of time, despite how close they felt to one another, there was still a lot of mysteries to be solved within both of them. If anything, the tumult had probably stymied them in the natural getting-to-know-you process. They'd always had something else to focus on, something outside of the two of them. First it was Brandon's drug problem, then his uncle, then Gabe, and now his slow recovery. There had been so much interference.

Suddenly, Teva found herself saying quickly, "I suck at art. Like..._a lot_. I have neither patience nor aptitude for it. The only kind of art I was ever any good at was dancing. All I needed to do was watch people do it, and then I'd try it and I would know how to do it almost perfectly on the first try. I guess maybe it's because dance is all about the body, you know, muscle control, and that ties in to my...natural talents."

"Then why did you suggest pottery lessons?" Brandon finally asked.

Humming a little, she admitted, "Because I knew you would enjoy it, and sometimes...you just do things you don't really want to do for the people you care about because it will make them happy, and you can find happiness in _their_ joy. Do you know what I mean?"

Stopping at one of the tables, Teva smiled at the old man, and inclined her chin at the seat across from him. He nodded, and set aside his book. Raising his bushy eyebrows, he asked quickly, "You know how to play without a computer telling you what moves you can make?"

Sliding into the seat, she quirked an eyebrow sardonically. "Let's just say I have an old soul."

"Speed?" the man questioned.

Teva grinned like a shark, loving the challenge reflected in his dark eyes. "Hell yes." She turned to Brandon, and said apologetically, "It's about to get intense up in here. I'm apologizing preemptively for forgetting you exist."

The older man huffed with laughter, but her eyes were all for Brandon. Reaching out, she rubbed in a little sunscreen he'd missed next to his nose.

Nodding, he told her, "Don't mind me, I'll just sit here quietly and bask in the tense atmosphere." His grin was wry.

Both Teva and her opponent laughed at that, then she turned back to the old man. Her intensity sharpened as he made his first move and slapped the timer down, beginning her turn. She responded with equal speed and sureness. In a way, it was just like a battle, and maybe that more than anything was what made her so good at it.

Brandon's mind wandered a bit as he took in the sounds of the chess pieces moving on the board, then focused on the waves rolling instead. There were other noises, of course, people laughing and talking, music coming from one of the restaurants nearby, the street vendors shouting out discounts on their wares, but he tuned all of that out and just listened to the ocean. It was steady, soothing, each wave sliding up onto the sand only to crash against the shallow surface before pulling back again. _Shhhhhhhhhhh, crrrshhhhhhh_.

The seagulls overhead cried out to one another, screaming about fish or that kid tossing out his sandwich crusts or the dog barking and circling beneath them. In his mind, Brandon took away the kid and the dog, took away the surfers and the sunbathers, the giant sandcastle that would be washed away on the next high tide.

_Redirect the image_, he thought to himself, closing his eyes for a few seconds. This time he would be prepared for the sight, was bending it and creating it to how he wanted it to look. It wasn't a reality, he knew that now, just a product of his own creative nature usually reserved for writing or for paint (or acting), now being trained for a type of art reserved only for his mind's eye.

He knew what Venice Beach looked like, knew where every rock formation was, where the docks branched out over the sea, where the brick building was that housed the restrooms a little ways up from where they were now (but he didn't want that in the picture either). He was going for private beach this time, just him, his girl, and the ocean.

Opening his eyes, he smiled at his own imagery. Feeling half asleep, half awake, he watched his dreamlike sight for a little while, completely unaware of when his eyes slipped shut again and took him fully into the dream.

Teva played for awhile with Max, finding the experience relaxing. Periodically she'd check on Brandon to make sure he was okay, but he'd fallen asleep awhile ago and seemed rather content. Finally, it was Max who said he had to go. "Been a pleasure, Sarah," he said, and shook her hand.

As he walked away, she turned to Brandon, lightly grasping his hand in hers and shaking. "B, I'm done. Do you want to go get some Italian ice?"

The cacophony of noise that invaded his senses upon wakening once again threw him into a near panic. This time was a little worse than that pawn shop though. There it had been mostly quiet with the exception of the music. Here there were people squealing and shouting, and he was surrounded in the steady drone of human traffic passing by behind him. There were too many, and he had no way of being able to tell whether any of them posed a threat, or where to go if he needed an escape, or-

"Brandon!"

Teva's voice, along with her hands pressed against his cheeks snapped him out of his little episode. He took a few halting breaths, a little stunned by how fast his heart was racing. It occurred to him as all the pieces started to form together about where he was that Teva's shout had been a little stern, making him wonder how many times she had called out his name before he'd gained awareness.

"Sorry," he breathed out as he tried to calm the adrenaline flow, reaching his hands up to grasp Teva's. He pulled them away from his face and gave her fingers a little squeeze before letting her go. "I'm not used to...there was just a lot of noise." Shaking his head, he changed the subject. "Did you win?"

"Eh, you know how it goes," she answered casually, and he was glad she seemed willing enough to let it go. "Win some, lose some. I think I might've won the war though."

His eyebrows went up as he smiled. "Oh? Then maybe we should have a victory celebration?"

Teva got up and backed his chair away from the chess tables before turning him back into the flow of human traffic. "Way ahead of you. I was thinking Italian ice."

Brandon placed a hand to his chest. "Be still my heart! You are the perfect woman."

"Even if I tell you you're buying?" she asked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

They got their ices-he went with orange-mango-banana-and wandered down the boardwalk a little further until they came upon a commotion up ahead.

"I bet that's where they're doing that demo," Brandon speculated. "You ever heard of the Lao Shin brothers? They come here and do this once a year. Their demo stuff is pretty crazy, definitely not practical in a lot of real situations, but they're fun to watch. The volunteer sparring matches, though," he shook his head. "I've never seen anybody beat them. Those guys have got some serious technique. We should go over there."

They stayed where they were for a second. "I don't know, B, it's packed pretty tight."

He laughed and slapped the arm of his chair. "What do you think this thing is for? I might as well be a fucking tank in these wheels. Plow right on through, they'll move. Let's go."

There was another long pause before she answered, and for a moment he didn't think she'd go with it. His having woken up in a panic had probably phased her more than he would've liked, but at the same time he knew that she didn't like to cut him off from doing as many normal things as possible. If he said he was okay with something, more than likely he was (except for the times when he was obviously throwing a tantrum, but he wouldn't be doing that anymore because Scott would be handy to keep him in line).

"Oh, fine, but only because you're twisting my arm," she finally responded. "If it gets to be too much just let me know."

There was that little threat in her voice that she tended to add in when she was being extra serious, and he knew better by now than to ignore it. This would be alright, though, familiar enough where he wouldn't have a problem. The only negative was that he wouldn't be able to see it this year, especially since this would be his last time attending.

_Oh well_, he thought, _there'll be new things to see in New Orleans._

Just as he thought, the crowd parted to let them push up near the front (no one needed to know that he was blind, making it so it didn't really matter how far away from the action he was), and he did his best to "watch" via sound alone. This one was more for Teva's benefit, anyway, and he hoped she'd actually like it. He owed her one for the pottery class.

Teva watched the demo like she was sizing up the Lao Shin brothers before a fight. Their moves were impressive, and acrobatic, and very, very flashy. Spooning lemon flavored ice into her mouth, she let the tiny slivers melt on her tongue, and wondered idly how she'd go about beating them.

It wasn't that she was honestly considering fighting them, not in public like this, despite the fact that they supposedly had volunteer sparring sessions. Displays of her abilities like that in a city where she'd taken 'runs before and was likely to do so again weren't really advisable. There were people recording the demo, and those recordings would go on the Matrix. Then her face would be out there for all to see. A runner's best weapon was anonymity. So even though she practically itched with the competitive need to stick her hand up and volunteer, she forced herself only to watch.

The smaller one tended to rely more on gravity-defying flips, and lightning fast moves to get in close. It reminded her of Bailo, the adept who'd been working with Tamsin when she reemerged. The taller, but slenderer of the two of them was a little more balanced, and if she was reading his moves correctly he was actually blending some Tai Chi forms into a spectacular display. She wasn't sure exactly what style they were using, maybe Capoeira blended with more traditional martial arts, but it was certainly pretty.

She'd take out the latter first, Teva decided with a little grin. His technique was a little better than his brother's. Not in a way that the audience would notice though. They were there to see a show, to be entertained. Most of them were probably only hobbyists at best. She could tell though that in a fight, she'd want to eliminate the taller brother first, because his skills were more well-rounded. In a fight, he would be a bigger threat. Disable those powerful arms, and his quick, intricate hands that seemed to flow from block to attack as effortlessly as breathing; break one, dislocate the knee before he could strike out at her that way, get inside his defenses within killing distance; chin-strike to the nose, slam that bone right into his brain. Instant kill.

The other would have to be trapped, cornered, backed into a place where he couldn't jump or twist his way out of it. Then, only when he had to, would he fight. She'd have to keep her guard up the whole time to defend from his quick jabs. Maybe an elbow strike to the head when he had his arm fully extended, momentarily exposing him. He'd be dazed, his guard would go down. Uppercut to the ribs. Not only would it wind him, but if they broke, the pain would be excruciating. Better if they pierced the lung though. Hook her leg behind his knee, take him down to the ground; snap his neck with a quick, brutal twist.

Her spoon scraped the bottom of her cup, snapping her out of her musings. She'd eaten the whole thing without even noticing. With a little smile, Teva watched one of the Lao Shin brothers wipe the floor with another challenger. Crouching next to Brandon's chair, she leaned her head against his arm. "Good call on the demo. I think I've picked up a few new tricks I want to try."

Fingers slipped through her hair as he said, "I'm glad you liked it."

"Now what?" she asked as the crowd began to break up. A quick look at the time told her they still had an hour to kill before they'd need to leave. "We've still got an hour before we should get going. I mean, we could just find someplace to sit and chill if you want, or we could search out some more entertainment. It's not like we're lacking in that department down here."

"Let's just cruise down to the end of the walk and come back," Brandon answered. "The street performers you see down here sometimes are...something else. You might find something you want at the vendor booths too."

"Sounds good," Teva said, and set them off at a leisurely pace.

Brandon found himself to be incredibly content as they rolled along. Not just content, but genuinely happy. Teva seemed to be really enjoying herself which was his main goal for the day anyway. The fact that he got to have a lot of fun out of it too was all just whipped cream on his strawberry shortcake. It made the thought of having to go back to the clinic that much more depressing, but he shook the sadness away, reminding himself that he had to do it for his role research.

Teva pulled the chair to a stop, informing him that she wanted to look at some hats at one of the booths. There were all sorts of different kinds, and Brandon wound up making a little guessing game out of what she plunked down on his head while she was trying some on for herself. She'd pick weird ones, character hats, and he'd make his guess by doing things like acting like a pirate when by touch he assumed that it was a pirate hat he was wearing. It was fun when he got them right, even more fun when he got them wrong if Teva's laughter was any sort of clue. One of the better ones was when he felt out the rounded shape of the hat adorned with what he thought was some sort of flower. Assuming it was a lady's hat he altered his pitch and gave himself a British accent (just because), and talked on and on about tea and crumpets in the guise of a little old woman. He knew it was wrong as soon as Teva busted out laughing, but he kept it up for a while just because it was nice to hear her lose her shit. Eventually she informed him that it was really a leprechaun hat with a very ornate clover. He promptly slipped into the appropriate character and started freaking out about having lost his pot o' gold, making her laugh even more.

They decided to buy that hat, and Brandon kept up with the leprechaun speak until Teva yanked it back off his head and shoved it the bag hanging off his chair's handle with whatever she had bought for herself. "Dork," she'd said fondly, and ruffled his hair up in that way that both amused and annoyed him at the same time.

At the end of the boardwalk there was a street comedian that they stopped and listened to for a little bit. The guy was terrible, not as in 'bad' terrible, but in the 'rag on everyone who walks by' kind of way. Nobody was safe, not even crippled Brandon, but somehow everything the guy said made him laugh instead of making him feel insecure. It was tasteful tasteless humor, mean but too funny and clever to get upset over, and it felt good to actually be able to make light of his situation.

"That guy was awesome," Brandon said as Teva was pushing him back to the car. "You gave him some cred, right?"

"Oh yeah," she answered. "Anyone who could make you that happy by calling you horrible names deserved it."

"They weren't horrible, they were funny," he argued, and chuckled again.

It had been a good show, a good day all around, but he found that he was ready to just have a relaxing meal with his family before calling it quits. He wished he could go back to his own bed for the night so he could wake up in the morning wrapped around Teva, and maybe not freak out about where he was, but that would have to come later. For now, he would be satisfied with the fact that the day had been a success so far, and maybe it would be something they could keep doing on the days he didn't have PT. A day of freedom here and there would certainly go a long way in lightening his mood. It definitely had today, and he didn't even have to slip into the Scott character all that often. Maybe he could do this, after all.

They changed clothes in the parking lot, Teva leaning casually in the open passenger door while Brandon changed his shirt. He was paranoid that people would see, that they would stop and gawk at the pale, skinny freak. Rolling her eyes, and telling him that wasn't going to happen, she none the less complied, blocking him from the view of casual passersby.

"Honestly," she drawled, flicking her cigarette ash onto the equally hot pavement, "People are more likely to look away and pretend they didn't notice. That sense of not wanting to draw attention to things we find disconcerting. It's like when a gigantic troll walks by, and people pretend not to see him despite the fact that he's seven feet tall and has fucking Minotaur horns on his head. They don't want to look, because they're afraid they'll gawk and they don't want to seem impolite or prejudiced."

"Teva," Brandon began, sliding his arms into a blue button-up shirt, and hurriedly doing up the tiny buttons from the bottom up, "You realize you just compared me to a troll?"

"I did not," she tossed back at him. "I'm trying to make a generalization and you're being deliberately obtuse. People, particularly humans, have this need to be politically correct, to not offend or call attention to that which they perceive as different from themselves. So you're far more likely to incur furtive glances when they think you aren't looking than outright gawking."

"That makes me feel so much better," he replied sarcastically, slipping on a pinstriped vest as well, and buttoning up the front. His hands slid over the material, attempting to identify by feel alone what he was wearing.

"You're so vain," Teva huffed, though she said it with an edge of fondness. She stubbed out her cigarette on the ground, then bent so she could put on the nicer black leather shoes she'd grabbed out of the closet.

Brandon let his hands graze over her back as she tied up the dress shoes, then he casually hooked her bra strap with one of his fingers, and yanked it up, snapping it against her skin in sharp reprimand. He grinned when she growled at him. "I'm not vain," he argued. "I'm concerned with first impressions."

"Vain," Teva muttered, and stood back up. She shut the door of the car as she walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle.

She wasn't concerned with people watching, and like most women, had acquired unique skills of changing in front of others without exposing herself all the way. Her arms were pulled through the sleeves of her tank top. Reaching underneath the hem, she plucked up her dress, one of the few she'd brought with her, and pushed her arms through the short, fluttery sleeves.

"You're wearing a bra," Brandon noted.

"Yes, well, you seem to be incredibly conscious of other people's opinions, so I put it on for your sake. God knows what kind of looks I'd draw if my nipples got hard in a fancy restaurant," Teva answered sardonically while she bunched up the dress in her hands, as well as the front of her tank top, and in a smooth maneuver simultaneously popped her head out of her tank top and into the dress, drawing the tank top off completely and the dress down over her upper body.

She threw the tank top into the bag, and pulled the red dress the rest of the way down. As she'd thought, the boat neck was too wide for a traditional bra, so she'd have to take the straps off before they left. The thin fabric slithered over her skin, loose on the upper half, low-waisted, and with a short skirt cut closer to her body line. Once the skirt was smoothed over, Teva reached underneath, popping the button on her shorts, and dragging the zipper down. The shorts were also shoved into the bag with the rest of their clothes.

Last but not least came a pair of black peep-toe pumps to replace her ratty tennis shoes. Then Teva tossed the bag in the back seat, plucking off the bra straps to be shoved in the empty cup holder up front after she'd sat down.

As she was doing her make-up, just eyeliner and nude lip color and a touch of golden glitter at the outer corner of her lids, Brandon spoke up saying, "To be clear, you do not have to wear a bra because of my or society's disapproval. In fact, I don't care if you ever wear a bra. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I do."

"Good," Teva answered succinctly, smoothing on her lip stain, "Because I hate them. You know who invented bras? Men. You know who invented high heels? Men. Pantyhose? Oh, that was also men. Why is it that men felt they had the authority to create fashions for women? I don't understand that. It's something that's puzzled me as far back as I can remember. And yet we, and by 'we' I mean women in general, continue to play into these misogynistic tropes of what a woman should do or be or wear. Are we so conditioned, so brainwashed?" Looking at herself in the mirror, she touched up the edges of her lips, removing the areas where the lip stain had strayed a little too thick and too close to the edge of her lips. She sighed. "I guess we are because I totally just put on make-up too. I'm a failure as a feminist."

"No, not a failure," Brandon sympathized, "Maybe redefining what feminism is?"

Scoffing, Teva turned on the car, and started to back out of their parking space. "Yeah, sure," she drawled disbelievingly.

Once they'd left the parking lot, she turned in the direction of Cardigan's (whose name still puzzled her) and hit the gas.

"Stop wincing," she admonished.

Teva's comment about not wincing made Brandon wince even more, but for a totally different reason. He was supposed to try to look relaxed this time so she wouldn't be upset over him being nervous. It was a trust thing. He could trust her not to kill his car. Or him, rather. Right, him, because it probably wasn't normal to be more concerned about his car than himself. Then again, he never claimed to be normal.

Forcing himself to sit back and relax, he reached an arm behind his seat and plucked his leprechaun hat out of the bag he'd heard Teva stash there. He settled it on his hand, tipping it at an angle to one side a little bit.

"Tell me, lassie, does me hat match me outfit?"

Teva barked out a laugh. "You have no idea how tempted I am to tell you 'yes' right now and just let you walk into that place wearing that ridiculous thing."

Brandon leaned close towards her and pinched the brim down lower over his eyes, smiling devilishly. "Ye better not, li'l miss. Otherwise I'd be forced to keep up the accent as well."

"No, that just makes it more tempting," she answered, and shoved him back over to his side of the car.

Grinning, he put the hat away and stretched his fingers over to her arm, running his hand up to her shoulder where he could touch the fabric. It felt kind of silky, and he traced the outline of the collar on her...dress, maybe? There was only way to find out.

"Brandon! You do know that feeling me up while I'm trying to drive makes this _less_ safe, right?" she squawked, but he noticed she didn't make much of an attempt to get away.

"But it's making me less wincy," he pointed out, tweaking up his eyebrows as he happily continued to slide his hand down her body until it reached the bottom of the dress. "Oh, man, that's hot. What color?"

"A little darker than fire engine." She tensed a little as Brandon's hand slid over her thigh. "B, stop it, or else we're going to have to pull over, and you don't want to make your _Nana_ and _Tata_ wait for us, do you?"

He honestly had to think that over for a second, but in the end decided to behave. Making his adopted grandparents wait while he sexed up his girl _in his car_ would be so...high school juvenile. Plus, just plain rude. Sighing, he turned on the radio to something relaxing and tilted his seat back a little bit. There wouldn't be enough time to sleep, but maybe he could just doze a little bit, let his mind go anywhere that wasn't 'oh my god, she's going to wreck my car!'

He settled on making a mental list of things he'd need to do once he left the clinic for good. Distracting and productive at the same time! Bonus!

* * *

**TBC…**


	12. Chapter 12

Coming Home

Chapter Twelve

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Teva caught sight of Mr. and Mrs. Reyes sitting on a park bench situated outside of the front doors to the restaurant, waiting patiently for their adopted wayward grandson (and his girl, the thought of which describing herself as that still made something twist in her gut; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good per se either-in fact, it felt a lot like when she drank too much and got the spins). She waved as she pulled into a parking spot fairly close to the door, and turned off the car. "They're here already," she told Brandon quietly.

He sat his seat back up, and asked, "Where?"

"Five o' clock," Teva answered, stepping out of the car, and pushing the driver's seat up so that she could get the chair out of the back.

Brandon waved to his 'grandparents,' and made an effort not to wince as Teva carefully removed the wheelchair. She saw that little tic though. Deciding to ignore it-he was obviously making an effort, the car-obsessed freak-she unfolded the chair, and brought it around to Brandon's side of the car. Working together, they got him re-situated, and Rena, or whatever its name was, was locked up securely as she pushed him up the aisle toward the door.

"Hey," she smiled at the older couple as they made it up onto the patio, "How are you guys?"

Much to her surprise Adelle held out her arms, and tugged Teva in for a kiss on the cheek. "Hola, sweetheart." She noticed that Brandon was receiving an enthusiastic greeting from Mr. Reyes as well. "Thank you for inviting us out," Adelle added as she and her husband swapped people, though from Carl all Teva received was a gentle, two-handed clasp of her hand, and a smile.

"You look lovely in red. It suits you," he complimented. Releasing her, he nudged Brandon conspiratorially and whispered, "Keep your wits about you, boy. She looks good enough to eat, and I'm certain some other man will notice as well."

Rolling her eyes, Teva laughingly scooted Mr. Reyes out of the way saying dryly, "Yes, and then two seconds into my harridan routine they'll scamper off with their tails between their legs." She pushed the automatic door opener, and wheeled Brandon through.

"How was your day off?" Mrs. Reyes asked with a sly twinkle in her eyes.

Brandon chuckled, clearly having heard something in her tone that matched the expression on her face. "It was nice, nana. I'll tell you all about it as soon as we're seated."

They stopped in front of the podium, and the pretty server asked with a polite, plastic smile, "Hi, there. I'm Tiffany. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," Bran answered, "Wilson, party of four."

The girl scanned the tablet screen in front of her, then nodded as she found their names and did something with the stylus in her hand to indicate that they had checked in. "One moment while I make sure your table's ready," she chirped, and bustled off efficiently.

There was a little bit of a shuffle as someone came along to remove one of the chairs from the table, making room for Brandon to be settled while the hostess placed the menus down and rattled off the specials. Tiffany was somebody Brandon didn't know, which he was honestly a little relieved about. If he got lucky then none of the servers he was somewhat familiar with would be around that day to ask him questions. He was shooting for a relaxed finish to his day, not an awkward one.

When the waiter came by to take drink orders he introduced himself as Kevin, a name and voice that didn't ring any bells with Brandon. Awkwardness avoided for the time being, he ordered himself a simple water with a couple lemon slices and instinctually reached for the menu. _That_ put the awkwardness right back on the table, and he couldn't help the little flush that rose to his cheeks as he pulled his hand away again.

_Maybe nobody saw that,_ he thought as drink orders continued around the table without missing a beat. If they had, thankfully it didn't seem like anybody was going to bring his slip to attention.

"Alright," Kevin stated merrily. "I'll be right back with your drinks, and we'll get some bread for you while you decide what you'd like for your meals."

Brandon sat quietly while Teva spoke politely with the Reyeses, wondering if he should just order one of the things that he knew for sure was on the menu, or ask to have someone read it to him. He liked Cardigan's, came to the place whenever he was due for a fancier meal, but it was still on nowhere near as regular a basis as he frequented his little breakfast cafe. _That _menu he could quote inside and out, but without his Enhancer working he couldn't remember all of what this particular restaurant had to offer. Plus with his diet being so limited, he really didn't know what sort of things they had to offer that he could have.

Teva's elbow nudged his arm gently when there was a break in conversation, and she very casually asked, "So what's good here? Pasta, steak, seafood, or something green?"

He smiled, and thought for a moment about what she was really asking him. "The steak's really good here. They spice it just right. But I think this time I might have to recommend the pasta."

"Okay, let's see what they've got." She read through just the options that he could have, pausing to make remarks about what she thought of the ingredients added to the meal as if she were genuinely trying to decide for herself what to eat. He loved her so much right then that he could've cried if they weren't in public, but as he didn't want to make a spectacle of himself, he settled for finding her hand and holding onto it tight as he 'helped her choose' what to order.

She gripped his fingers back before flipping the page of her menu. "Sounds good, but I changed my mind. A couple across the way just got a plate of what looks like salmon, and it's kind of making me want seafood now."

"That's fine," Brandon remarked with a shrug. "I think I talked myself into that pasta though, so I'm going to stick with that.'

And then dinner proceeded as per normal from there. They all talked about their day (leaving out the bedroom activity, of course, but Brandon had a feeling that the Reyeses probably guessed that it had been on the docket), and took their time eating. Brandon had gotten well used to finding his own way around his meals by then, but he made certain to be extra careful not to spill his water or drop things on his lap. He'd tucked his napkin at his collar just in case, a little more unusual than just draping it over his legs like most people did, but not too unheard of that anyone would think it ridiculous, and was grateful for it when he felt a dollop of the sauce fall from his fork onto his chest.

"Is that going to drip down?" he asked, interrupting the conversation.

It was his nana that answered. "Mmm, it might. Here, mijo, another napkin for you."

He graciously accepted it and was careful to fold up the soiled cloth so he didn't make more of a mess, trading it for the clean one all on his own. Crisis averted, they easily slipped right back into the discussion they were having. When it came time for dessert Teva offered to split a piece of cake with him, which pretty much ensured that he wouldn't be allowed to have too much of it. That girl liked her cake.

Afterwards, they continued to just sit and digest for a bit. Brandon was getting tired, and absently rubbed at his eyes while the conversation wound down. "What are you guys doing on Tuesday?" he asked without really thinking about it.

"Tuesday?" Tata questioned.

Brandon winced a little bit. He didn't really want to put a damper on the night. It was just a simple matter of curiosity that had slipped out without him realizing what he was saying. Too late to turn back now though, he cleared his throat as he answered. "Today's Saturday, right? I've got my, uh, my next treatment on Monday, so Tuesday..."

"Right, another day off," Nana answered in understanding. "If it is nice enough, I think I would like to talk tata into taking me to the gardens. The flowers won't be in bloom much longer."

"Tuesday is for bowling," Tata huffed. "We've been married how many years and still you refuse to remember!"

She snorted at that. "I choose to forget. It's bad for your back, you stubborn old man."

And just like that, awkwardness was once again diverted. Teva gripped Brandon's hand again as she quietly asked him if he was ready to go. He hated to admit it, _loathed_ it, actually, but if they didn't leave soon he was likely to crash right there at the table. Not wanting that, he gave her a reluctant nod, prompting her to bring the mock argument between the elderly couple to an end.

They waited until they were outside to say their goodbyes, and Brandon was too tired once he was settled in the car to even care anymore about his leather seats as Teva shoved the chair in the back.

"I had a really great day," he informed her once she got in and shut the door. "Thank you, angel."

"Don't give me all the credit. You made my day pretty great too," she said before giving him a long, sweet kiss. "We'll have to do this again sometime soon."

He smiled at her before pulling away and leaning his seat back once more. "It's a date." Closing his eyes, knowing he was going to fade pretty fast, he made one more request. "When you wake me up, hang onto me and just keep talking until I remember where I am, okay? It's a little scary when I get confused."

"Okay," she answered softly, and it was probably only minutes later when he drifted off.

"Bran," Teva said slowly as she turned off the car in the clinic parking lot, and unclipped her seatbelt. She leaned over the space between her bucket seat and his, perching her upper body on the edge of his reclined seat. Her fingers trailed up over his sleeve, and he shivered in his sleep as the fabric moved over his skin. "Wake up, gorgeous," she ordered with a grin, pulling him into a loose, one-armed embrace. "We're at the clinic."

Brandon grunted and jerked, coming awake in a rush that she was becoming accustomed to. His breath was quick, and his heartbeat matched it in tempo. Teva paid no attention to it, just talked through it until he began to calm. "So I had a nice time today," she purred quietly, "Even at the pottery studio. You looked like you were enjoying yourself. I'm excited to see what your things look like after they've been fired. You know, you're so creative it makes me a little jealous."

He groped for her waist with his arm, the one that wasn't trapped between them, and attempted to tug her a little closer. With a little sigh as his body relaxed, Brandon said, "You're creative."

"Not really," she argued. "I think I'm a little too left-brain dominant."

"But when you fight that's right-brain, because it's physical, isn't it?" he asked curiously.

After a pause, Teva admitted, "I'm not sure. I don't think of it that way though. I see those movements, and my brain leaps ahead, plots out all the moves they could be making, and how I can counter them; what I should do after to keep them off balance and gain the advantage. To me it's very strategic."

Brandon squeezed her waist and said soothingly, "Well, whatever it is, you're brilliant at it."

Laughing, she leaned in, brushing her lips across his and whispering, "Thanks."

He kissed her back slowly, pulling back just far enough to say "you're welcome" an instant before he drew her back to his lips. His hand slid up her spine, and cupped the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle over her vertebra and playing in the fine hairs at the base of her skull.

She made a soft sound of pleasure, but broke away briefly saying, "We should get you inside."

"One more minute," Bran pleaded, and drew her back for an endless kiss that left her gasping, and considering the wisdom of sex in a parking lot. She shifted, planting her arm on the opposite side of his head. The action gave him enough room to get his other arm wrapped around her, sliding over her hip and down the silky fabric of her dress to her bare thigh.

As it crept higher beneath the fabric, Teva pulled away to point out, "Bran, I'm kind of awkwardly positioned here."

He huffed, "Teva, I'm trying to seduce you, and you're being deliberately obtuse." It was such a spot-on imitation of her tone earlier at the beach that she had to laugh. Brandon nipped her lower lip, then sucked on it to quiet her. "Get over here," he growled against her skin, nudged her a little closer with his hand on her ass.

So she did. It was fast and furtive, her eyes keeping watch on the back of the clinic and around the parking lot for passersby. Later on they might laugh about the time they fucked in his car like horny high schoolers, but at the moment it was illicit and delicious, driven by an urgent need for more time alone where they could just neck like teenagers without nurses walking in or a schedule to keep to.

Of course it depleted Brandon's remaining energy to nothing more than dregs, and by the time they got inside, he was pretty much asleep in his chair. Teva signed him in at the desk, and took him to his room, helping when he needed to get into his pajamas, and tucked into bed.

He sighed, and took her hand, kissing the back of her knuckles with bruised lips. "I love you. Thank you for today."

Flipping their grip, she mimicked the gesture on his hand. "I love you too, and you already said that."

"'Night," Brandon yawned, then asked in a small voice, "Stay 'til I'm asleep?"

"Okay," she agreed, and slid up on the bed next to him, head pillowed on his shoulder as his breath evened out, and deepened as he fell into REM.

* * *

Waking alone in the clinic the next morning was a little bit depressing, but kind of a relief at the same time. Brandon thought that maybe once he was out he'd have to get himself a little noise generator that sounded like the monitors beeping, he'd become so dependent on hearing it. Then again, it might be even _more_ confusing if he thought he was waking up in the clinic only to find himself somewhere entirely different. Nope, he'd just have to get used to going without, to remembering that opening his eyes to the dark was going to be the status quo for some time, and that processing sound or lack thereof would have to be his first instinct upon awakening.

Kristi was on shift that morning, and thankfully the anger from his escape a couple days before seemed to have dissipated for the most part. He was in a good mood, the staff was in a good mood, once Teva and the Reyeses showed up, they were in a good mood, and Eric was generally always happy. Despite all the activity from the day before, Brandon did take his five steps and almost went for a sixth before he was through, causing Eric to break the cardinal rule of no telling how far he had left to go. It was okay though, because apparently that sixth step would've put him at the halfway mark. He was halfway home, and he could live with that.

Since Brandon had been spending more and more time out of bed than in it, the staff surprised him with an okay that he could actually dress in normal clothes following his PT. They had informed Teva of this decision before she had left the night before apparently, and she brought him a selection of some of his own stuff. They were all casual things that were comfortable enough to lounge around in, but a little more appropriate for if they wanted to go out to the park or something, which was completely fine with him. Wearing normal clothes made him want to actually socialize with the world a little more, lowering his level of self-consciousness quite a bit. Plus his new glasses were far less embarrassing. All in all, he felt a lot more human again, especially after having experienced a whole day where nobody had really treated him like he was anything less (that he could see anyway).

The rest of the day was pretty relaxed, with the Reyeses going home right after lunch leaving Teva and Brandon to play Soap Opera Theater (as he had dubbed it) in practice for when they had to watch with Madden. Brandon wondered midway through it if she had even called Madden or Red to tell them what had happened, or Switch, for that matter. Did anybody know what they would come across when they saw or talked to him again? Or would it be a complete surprise? Maybe he would get Switch's comm number from Teva again and explain the situation himself. The tech might have some good recs for what type of gear Brandon might find handy while he waited for his sight to return. That could come later though, when he felt like being more exposed about his weakness. For the time being he was content with the way things were.

Teva and Brandon parted ways that evening with a reminder that she needed to be there earlier the next day for his treatment. As Peters had promised, it went a lot faster than the previous injection, though no less painful. It made Brandon kind of wonder how long he needed to stay completely sober before it would be safe to allow him the use of the painkillers. Probably longer than his treatments were going to last. Even with an entire month of sleeping off the cravings, he still hadn't been a recovering addict for all that long. Moving too soon on allowing him any sort of narcotics could very easily throw him back into that need for more, negating all his progress. He didn't think Teva would be willing to put up with that a second time, especially since it was his very addiction that had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

"There's nothing you can give him for that at all?" Teva asked once they'd gotten Brandon back in his chair, apparently riding the same thought train he had been on. "What about that spit stuff you gave him last time?"

"Unfortunately the Opiorphin can't do much in this situation," Peters said in an apologetic tone. "It just isn't designed to attack the proper areas involved with this type of pain. We can discuss the use of the narcotics again if you'd like. If we monitor its use appropriately, we can take steps to ensure that should addiction occur again-"

"No," Brandon shot him down. "I'm not doing that, not again. I don't want to be like that again, monitored or otherwise. I can handle this. It's only once every other week. I can handle it."

They dropped the issue and set about going through the rest of the day in as normal a fashion as possible. Brandon still couldn't quite hit that sixth step, that halfway marker, but he thought he got a little closer that time than the day before. He'd have it by the end of the week, he was sure, and maybe on his way to his seventh.

Nana and tata stayed a little longer that day, going out on a walk with them after lunch, just chatting about nonsense in a way that made Brandon feel that bond of belonging in a family unit. He would miss that horribly once he and Teva left for New Orleans, that sense of being loved like a child that he'd never had growing up. Programming the Reyeses' number into his comm was going to be the first thing he did once he got a new one, because weekly calls were going to have to become a regular thing along with the occasional trip back to town just to see them. Hell, he'd probably be in touch with them more than their real children were, since he had just gained something that they had grown up taking advantage of. Maybe that's why nana and tata coddled him so much. They recognized his need to fill a void he never really knew he had, and understood the level of appreciation he felt to have them in his life. For them, it was also nice to _experience_ that level of appreciation from a grateful 'grandchild,' and would continue to be there for him as long as he needed them to be.

That evening Peters sent Teva out for a little bit while they prepped Brandon for Seizure Day: The Second Coming. Anticipating the reaction to occur sometime in the middle of the night like it had last time, they got him dressed in the gown, inserted the dreaded catheter, hooked him up to all the appropriate monitors, and started him on the muscle relaxers and medication that was supposed to theoretically inhibit the magnitude of the seizures. Brandon didn't think the meds did all that much if his fuzzy memories of the first time were at all reliable.

They _did_ make him feel kind of drowsy though, and he had been in a sort of half-doze with Teva lounging up on the bed beside him (mindful of the wires and IV) when he was brought back to awareness by a little tingle that danced across the back of his head. It didn't hurt, but it had that familiar tickle of electric energy that had plagued him off and on throughout the day during the initial discovery of his reaction to the treatment.

"Shit," he hissed out, and immediately began to press the button to call the nurses in.

Teva sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

Another little wave hit him, this one coming on with a bit of a burn. He closed his eyes, flinching as it passed through. "You gotta go, angel," he told her, a little frantic edge to his tone as he pressed the button a couple more times.

Footsteps came into the room, followed by Kristi's concerned voice. "Brandon, what's going on?"

A third jolt hit him hard, forcing him to press his head back against the pillow. "Get her out of here!" he practically screamed. Anything beyond that was lost as the fourth shock sent him over the edge of his control.

"What is going on?!" Teva shouted as she spilled off the bed, looking wide-eyed and terrified at the nurse, who was busy slapping a button next to the bed that Teva had never had cause to pay attention to before that very moment.

Brandon was shaking, his limbs flailing spastically.

"Oh god," she gasped, and made a move to reach for his hands.

"No!" Kristi shouted, causing her to halt her progress immediately. The nurse's voice rang with a rare vehemence that made Teva instinctively obey her. "You could hurt him worse!"

Staff rushed into the room, pushing Teva inadvertently further and further away from her boyfriend. She stood there, proportionately paralyzed as Brandon was seized, a hand pressed to her mouth in horror.

A hand gently cupped her elbow, and Peters' face suddenly loomed in front of hers. "Teva, you should leave. You don't want to see this," he said very seriously.

"I-" Her throat closed up, cutting off her words. She shook her head.

Peters gave someone a look behind her, and a girl, one of the new hires, Teva thought, took her arm, leading her from the room. The waiting room was as far as they went before Teva crumpled onto a couch. She didn't even notice she was crying until there were tissues, light and airy, the kind with lotion in them to try and keep people from getting sore noses, pressed into her hand.

After she had gotten some semblance of control, the girl, whose name still eluded her, asked quietly, "Do you want some water or something? Tea? Coffee? I could run and get you a soda. We have lemon-lime, coke, and diet coke." She seemed so earnest, so eager to just do something, anything to help that Teva couldn't bring herself to refuse.

"Water's fine," she replied huskily, and swallowed.

"Okay," the girl agreed, and got up, bustling off to the fridge marked 'for patient and visitor use only'. Wrenching open the door, she plucked out a tiny water bottle, and brought it back to Teva. "Do you...need somebody to sit with you for awhile?"

"Sure," Teva answered, twisting the plastic cap off, and taking a long gulp of cold water.

They sat there for a long time, silent and contemplative until finally Teva found herself asking, "He's in a lot of pain, isn't he?"

"Yeah," the girl agreed, biting her lip. "He'll pretty much seize all night and maybe part of the day tomorrow. There's really no way to tell. He started earlier than last time."

"Is that...good? Bad?" she asked uncertainly.

"Good, we hope," the nurse quietly replied.

"I...don't think I can go. Not now that I've seen," Teva said quietly.

Standing up, the kind young nurse put on a fresh pot of soycaf. "It's gonna be a long night then. I'll grab you a pillow and a blanket. Maybe you can rest up a little bit out here, and we'll let you know when his seizures stop so you can go sit with him." She smiled sweetly, and turned to ask, "Does that sound good?"

Wordlessly, Teva nodded.

* * *

Once again, Brandon's sense of time was broken up into a series of disjointed moments, confusing sounds, hands on his body, screams tearing from his own throat filtering around that damn mouth guard, and the ever-present net of lightening firing pain in random patterns across the back of his head.

The first time he fully came around, again he was met with the sound of Peters' voice. "Brandon, are you with us?"

_Us?_

Brandon nodded slowly, carefully, wondering which of the nurses was nearby. He kept his eyes shut, knowing that opening them wouldn't help him determine who was in the room anyway, and his lids twitched slightly each time another of the smaller jolts hit him. The pain was bearable now, but again he felt that overwhelming sense of exhaustion coupled with the muscles in his body protesting against the hours of involuntarily abuse. That was actually a little bit better this time though, after having built up more strength over the last two weeks and not having the added bonus of a dislocated shoulder. The medical staff had been prepared to handle his seizures this time around, thankfully easing up some of his discomfort even if only slightly.

Peters's voice filtered through Brandon's hazy thoughts again, asking him to open up so the mouthpiece could be removed. "Just for a few minutes. You've got a visitor, and I'd like to get some water into you while you're up to it. Teva, the cup?"

_Teva?_

"Noooooo," Brandon moaned in what came out as mostly a whisper. He shook his head ever-so-slightly, and swallowed hard against another electric burst.

Footsteps adjusted around and then he felt her hand wrap around his for a second before moving up to slide behind his neck. "You need to drink this," Teva instructed softly, ready to help brace him up a little.

Brandon didn't move. "You shouldn't be here," he managed to get out on his broken voice.

"And you shouldn't be alone through this," she countered, her gentle voice full of concern and sadness, coupled with that stubborn set she tended to get when she'd already put her foot down on something. "Now open your mouth. The straw's right in front of you."

This time he did as asked, leaning forward a little with her help so he could take a few sips of the water. It felt good, the moisture soothing his raw throat and wetting his tongue, washing away some of the rubbery taste from the guard. When he was done he simply turned his face away slightly from the cup, allowing Teva to settle his head back against the pillow. She kept her hand where it was behind his neck, and he wondered with a touch of idle horror if she would get shocked by the fiery net that currently existed back there if she were to move her fingers up a mere inch or two.

Her other hand found his, meaning she had passed the cup off to Peters, and he found himself gripping onto it weakly even though he had every intention of sending her away. She shouldn't have been there, witnessing his pain, dealing with his sickness, putting herself through that level of helplessness. He had meant to protect her from all this, to just keep playing everything off like it was bad, but nothing to be overly concerned about. She wasn't supposed to _see_ it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, one more of many tears he'd already shed escaping from his tightly-closed eyelids, trickling down the side of his face. "You shouldn't...you should go home."

"Shhhh," she soothed, finally removing her hand from the danger zone so she could brush her fingers through his hair. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm tough, I can handle this."

He began to relax more against her steady touch, focusing on that instead of the pain. "Not as tough...as you think," he barely got out as he began to slip away again. He barely latched onto the feel of having the guard put back in, and caught just a snippet of Peters telling Teva she'd have to continue to wait outside.

That was good. Brandon knew he wasn't quite done with the seizures yet and didn't want her to have to see another one. One was bad enough. She wasn't that tough, not when it came to the people she cared about. She wasn't that tough at all.

The night was long. It seemed much longer than just twelve hours even. It felt like years, each anxious moment in the waiting room stretched like taffy into infinity. There was soycaf drunk, and half-hearted games played with some of the staff members as she waited for the okay to come back into the room. Each hand of cards was held in a loose, absent grip, and she was sure that some of her opponents must have seen her cards, but she didn't care. Her mind wasn't really on the game. It was on the room situated diagonally across the ward's wide hallway, the nurse's station placed between them.

Later in the night, or maybe the wee hours of the morning, she was back in the room, stroking Brandon's sweaty hair back from his face, and thinking just how much worse this was than watching him detox. Back then, Teva hadn't been so emotionally invested in his well-being. Now it was all she could do not to wring the doctor's neck and demand that they do something to _stop this_. Give him more anticonvulsants, more whatever the fuck was in that other IV bag; anything to make him better.

"Go home," he whispered again.

"Fuck off," she replied without any heat, and stuck the straw in his mouth.

Brandon drank a little, then weakly dropped his head back onto the bed. The pillows had been taken away. There was too much risk that he'd twist wrong during one of his seizures, and accidentally suffocate himself. For similar reasons, the staff had looped some kind of padding over the rails of the bed. It would keep him from injuring himself, they hoped, but they didn't have the same thickness and malleability as body pillows would. They kind of reminded her of gymnastic mats.

Lifting his hand briefly, she pressed her lips against the skin, and felt his fingers curl a bit around her hand, the slightest pressure on her skin to let her know that he was there, that he understood the gesture for what it was, a silent 'I love you' and a sincere 'I'm here for you.'

They put the guard back in his mouth, and Teva set his hand gently back on the bed, stepping away as he began to convulse again. She watched for a whole two minutes until her eyes were too blurry to see any more, and then used her back against the wall to find the doorway, sliding out into the hallway. Outside one of the male nurses, Sam, she recalled his name, was coming up to her saying, "I'm on break. I was going to run and get something for me and some of the other nurses. You hungry?"

"Ice cream," she murmured, "French fries. Fat, greasy burger."

It was amazing how hungry fear and useless worry could make person.

Nodding, he replied, "You got it."

Teva transferred some nuyen into his cred account, and watched him go. Until he got back, she decided, she'd go close her eyes. The pillow and blanket had been left on the end of the waiting room sofa. She hastily unfolded the thin fabric, and pulled it over her body as she lay down, losing herself in the hum of fluorescent lights, the soft murmur of voices on the trid, and the pitter-patter and squeak of people's shoes as they walked the hallways with purpose.

* * *

Unlike last time, Brandon didn't bother asking for the hour each time he came around. He could roughly tell by how much pain he was feeling or how tired he felt whether he was nearing the end of his payment for the possible return of his sight. Teva had been there almost every time he woke up, and every time he tried to get her to leave. She shot him down every time, too.

Mattie was on shift now, checking Brandon over before she could allow Teva to come back in again. Brandon touched her arm lightly, stilling her movements.

"You shouldn't have let her stay," he protested quietly.

"Did you really want us to kick her out?" Mattie asked. "Here, lift your head. I'm giving you your pillow back. You're down to pretty much just tremors now."

Brandon more or less lay still while she did the work for him, not really having the energy to move that much on his own. He _did_ want them to kick her out actually, just like they hadn't let her come down to the clinic at all that first time. This wasn't good for her. Now that she knew what actually went on behind the closed doors, she'd be a bundle of nerves every time he had to go through this again.

At the same time though, the more selfish side of him had to admit that it was nice having her there. Plus, if she really didn't want to go there was probably no way anyone would be able to make her. This was the girl that drew a gun on them the first time she had met some of the staff, and that was back when they were just sort of figuring out that they had feelings for one another. Now that real love was in the picture there was no telling how far she would go for him.

Which actually brought him back to the original idea that she shouldn't be there. What would she do if it got to be too much for her to handle? Brandon didn't think she'd actually hurt anybody, she was too smart to think that bullying the staff would be of any use to him. Still, where would her snapping point be? How much could she take of his suffering before it was too much?

"Teva, come on in, honey," he heard Mattie say from across the room. It surprised him a little bit. He hadn't been aware of her finishing her checks or walking that far away.

Teva took up her position at his side, her hands immediately taking up the assigned tasks she seemed to have given them, one latching onto his fingers, the other combing through his hair. "They told me it should be pretty much over now," she informed him with a forced sense of casualness.

"How many?" he asked in return, rolling his head towards her and cracking his eyes open slightly. They burned, and it was a little difficult to peel his lashes apart.

"How many what?" she asked, moving her hand out of his hair. A second later there was a wet rag sliding gently over his eyes, cleaning them of the crust that had formed while he'd cried through his closed lids off and on throughout the night, and however far they were into the day. If he was that close to being done, it was probably nearing evening again.

He reveled in the feel of the cool rag for a minute, breathing quietly as she moved it up to his forehead and then down his neck, cleaning him of some of the sweat that had dried there. "Seizures," he finally answered, "did you see?"

The rag paused. This time it was her turn to stay quiet for a little bit before speaking. "It doesn't matter," she said dismissively.

That meant it had been too many. "No more," he told her as firmly as he could. "Don't come next time."

"Are you going to stop me?" she asked. "In case you forgot, I don't take orders well."

"Please," he begged, putting as much pressure as he could on her hand. Arguing was draining him too fast, not giving him the right amount of power behind his words. Maybe that would drive the point home though, seeing how hard he was working at getting the words out. "Don't do this to yourself, not again."

Silence filled the air for a long time, during which the rag disappeared and her fingers returned to his hair. "We'll see," she answered softly, in that torn way that meant she hadn't really come to a decision on it.

That was better than a straight no, so he'd accept it. That gave him two more weeks to fully convince her that it would be for the best if she stayed away, that he'd call her once he was up to it like he had the first time around. She didn't need to be involved any more than that. The clinic staff could handle the rest.

"Hey," he breathed, a small smile just touching the corners of his lips. "Since the show's pretty much over...you should go home now."

"Don't push it," she admonished, and placed a small kiss on his forehead.

He passed out after that not having a clue what time it was, but slept without incident (as far as he knew) straight on through to the next morning.

Pretty much the scariest twenty-four hours of her life had passed in an overtired blur. She existed as a bundle of raw nerve endings, jumping at the slightest noises, ends snapping and sparking together intermittently. Teva slept little, and drank a lot of soycaf.

Numerous people had attempted to persuade her to leave, Brandon among them, but she couldn't. Why didn't he understand that she couldn't leave him like that knowing that he was suffering, that he was in pain? At the safe house, it would be even worse. At least at the clinic, she could verify with her own eyes between episodes that he was going to be okay. She wouldn't have that confirmation if she left. She'd just worry even more, and be sleepless and useless. This was better. It put her mind at ease, in a strange way.

She wasn't just waiting for the call that something had gone terribly wrong, or that he was okay. She wasn't writhing in guilt because she was allowed to go jogging while he was in agony.

After the seizures finally abated, and Brandon fell peacefully asleep, that was when she finally left. It felt strange emerging into the bright sunlight, groggy and practically sleep-walking to the subway station. Backwards, somehow. Teva was used to leaving the clinic at night, the streets dark and hardly populated. She was accustomed to the quiet and the fresh scent of the night air. It was almost overwhelming, spending such a long stint in the antiseptic environment of the clinic, and stepping out into light, sound, cars, people; smiling, laughter, talking loudly, bustling feet, horns; smog, fumes, food smells. A headache struck her immediately.

By the time she arrived at the safe house, she was ready for pain killers and a sleeping pill to counteract all the remaining caffeine in her system.

Teva drifted off thinking about Brandon's pleas to not return to the clinic during that time again. She didn't know. Maybe, maybe not. It was as she slept that it struck her, a little bargain with herself. If he began seizing again while she was there, she would stay as she'd done this time. If not, she would stay away, and leave him to suffer alone. It was the most she could bring herself to compromise on, and Bran was just going to have to deal with that.

Asshole...

She _was_ strong enough.

* * *

**TBC…**


	13. Chapter 13

Coming Home

Chapter Thirteen

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Note: Toward the end of this chapter, there is the beginning of a somewhat more detailed sex scene. It concludes in the beginning of the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Brandon woke up at his usual time the next morning feeling, well, not _good_ considering he was still in the aftereffects of a day's worth of his body doing whatever the hell it wanted, but not really bad either. Teva came in later than usual, obviously still recuperating from her own long day, but they didn't discuss it. It seemed neither of them had any intention of bringing it up any further than her asking how he felt and him answering in tired fashion that he was better. They'd deal with the concept of her staying or leaving for the next episodic day when they got to it, which wasn't for another two weeks, so Brandon was fine with pretending that the issue didn't exist for the time being.

There were no bars, of course, that day, only Eric working out the problem areas in Brandon's sore muscles and teaching Teva how to further refine her technique. Brandon was _so_ down with playing guinea pig for that, and had pretty much become a half-asleep puddle of goo in her capable hands by the time they were finished with the session. He took it easy for the rest of the day with nana and tata telling him about the flower gardens; or rather _nana_ told him about the gardens while tata pretended to be grumpy about having missed his bowling day. When the Reyeses left, Brandon and Teva just lounged around in the bed pretty much until visiting hours were over, then she kissed him goodnight and went on her way.

Everything was back to normal the following day and right on through the following weeks. Brandon slowly got more and more accustomed to functioning with his mix of clinic schedule versus his time out in the real world, though he found that he was playing Scott Brandon a little bit more than he would've liked as the next few light tests ended with only what he thought was maybe the most minimal improvement. It was too slow, his sight possibly improving too gradually for him to really be able to tell much of a difference, _if_ it was improving at all. He still wasn't certain whether he was tricking his own mind into seeing what it wanted to or if there was definite improvement. Peters still acted encouraging though, so Brandon held firm to that. Then there was also that one day at The Grove where someone ran past Brandon's chair a little too close for comfort. It was a bright day and Brandon had seen the movement, but he also swore he saw a flash of orange, just for a second. He was almost afraid to ask, but was too curious not to.

The kid had been wearing a bright orange shirt. Brandon and Teva celebrated by getting the biggest mystery desserts from the Farmer's Market that they could handle.

Eric let Brandon do more and more things on his own during PT, including getting himself into the weight machines, pulling himself to his feet when he got to the parallel bars, and actually ditching the floaties in the pool. During the last session he was allowed to do just a couple laps with Teva-slow, but steady, and she paced him the whole time in case he needed her. He didn't.

His diet was back to normal, and he felt less tired, not needing the naps as often during the day (with the exception of recovering from Seizure Days, which seemed to settle at coming on around early evening each time, thereby ensuring that Teva was always around for it, damn her), so he and Teva went out more frequently in his off time. They still kept their outings fairly low-key, sometimes with the Reyeses and sometimes without. She took him to do pottery again because he had liked it so much the first time, and either everyone was just being overly nice, or he did have a knack for it if his first pieces had come out nearly as pretty as everybody kept telling him they did. The second time she took him she didn't participate, just watched and talked with him while he formed the clay. He told her for his birthday in the fall he wanted his own wheel, even if he _could_ see by then. The art appealed to him almost as much as painting did, but unlike his paintings, people wouldn't look at the pots and wonder what the hell they were supposed to be seeing.

Maybe when he could see again he would just paint directly onto the clay. People would probably just think the colors were pretty, wouldn't have a clue that actual emotion went into the designs, but it wouldn't matter. He'd be making tangible objects that he might be able to sell if they came out okay, plus still utilizing one of his emotional outlets at the same time. Maybe he could even still do that blind if Teva told him what colors he was using. That'd be a test for another time, though.

He wrote _a lot_, trying to document his experiences as thoroughly as Scott would were he actually researching a role. In such an age where a disability like his was a rare occurrence, who knew? Maybe one day he would write a real book that some real actor would want to bring to life. Hell, if he was feeling really brave maybe he'd take all his journals and turn them into a partial fact, partial fiction novel, adjusting the details enough that no one would try to tag him for real crimes. He'd have to publish it under an alias, of course, and make it appear like a complete work of fiction, but it probably would be a fascinating and emotional read for the basic audience. That whole finding romance in the most unusual place in the end would make the readers happy too.

Wondering about things like that made him realize that he wasn't thinking along the lines of a 'runner anymore. Selling pottery, penning a novel, happily playing house with his girlfriend; they weren't 'runner's thoughts. He realized with a bit of a start that it wasn't necessarily because he was giving up on the notion of regaining his sight though. He still was very much fighting for it, and was still very much in denial about the whole notion that it would never return, but at the same time he was prepping to cope for however long it would take before he could see again. He couldn't 'run, not like he was, but he wouldn't allow himself to just sit idly by while Teva did all the work. It wouldn't be fair to her, and it would drive him absolutely insane. If his creativity was what brought in nuyen, he'd use it.

Maybe he should try out for stage or trid acting. That was something he could do blind, he was sure of it.

That all had to come after he got out of the clinic, of course. As much time as he spent away from it anymore, he was dying to be able to sleep in a real bed without all the clinic noise. He'd gotten a lot more accustomed to waking up in odd places, less dependent on hearing those familiar beeps, and more on the sound of Teva's voice to bring him around, or just the feel of a friendly hand on his arm or shoulder. He was ready to be out, to get himself a new comm so he could be a real person in the world again, to purchase some tech that would help him 'see' so he'd be more self-reliant, to use some goddamn braces or crutches or even a rolling walker to get himself around instead of being stuck half the time in that damn chair.

But that all depended on him being able to take those last couple steps. He was close, had been counting down as he forced himself to shuffle along. If Eric hadn't been lying to him about where the halfway point had been (and he knew the troll wouldn't do that), then he had two more steps to go. He could slam them both out in one go, he knew he could.

* * *

As the weeks passed and Brandon improved little by little, Teva found herself actually beginning to dream of the trip home. She wanted her bed, and her closet, full of clothes that weren't the same things she'd been wearing for the past few months. Summer was on its last legs with autumn right around the corner.

Madden, she was informed over the phone, had pretty much moved into her apartment in the meantime. "It's easier than shuttling back and forth all the time." He, unlike she and Red, lived nowhere near the Quarter, so it was a much longer trek to and from.

She shook her head, and told him that he was promptly reimbursing her for the utilities then.

"Fair enough," the troll had complacently replied.

Things Teva also dreamed about longingly were the annual zydeco music festival, which was she was missing this year due to being in L.A., and driving her own car (sans wincing passenger-seriously, she was going to get one of those low-current zapper rings, and just smack him with it whenever he started doing that-and that shit was soooo not happening in her car), and eating fresh beignets at that little cafe by the river and drinking real coffee. She missed taking baths in her tub. Brandon's safe house was only equipped with a shower. She missed knowing a city intimately instead of relying on her GPS nav to get around, and seeing her friends, 'runners and civilians alike.

It was homesickness that prompted her call to Madden, who for some reason always represented New Orleans in her mind, and another to Red later that evening. The call was friendly, and less hostile than their usual interactions. She was glad of it, and thought that maybe the one night they'd shared together had finally cleared the air between them, gotten all the bullshit out of the way so they could actually begin being friends to one another.

A few days later, she called Switch, and they babbled at each other cheerily for over an hour, swapping stories and catching up. When he asked what she was doing, when she'd be home-"...Maybe Ally and I can come for a visit; she's never been to New Orleans, and I've never had a chance to see much of it. What's going on with you and Ghost? Will he be there?"-she wasn't sure what to say. Teva hadn't talked to Brandon about what she should and shouldn't tell people, though her friends might have some inkling based on the sheer amount of time she'd been away. She decided to neatly sidestep the issue with, "We haven't settled on any plans for leaving yet, but yes, he's coming with me. Unless I do something particularly awful and he decides I'm more trouble than he initially thought."

"You know," Switch had remarked lightly, "It still kinda weirds me out that you two ended up together. I mean, I saw that thing at Horizon. I know we never talked about it, but I did see, I just couldn't do anything. Anyway, I thought after that you'd hate him forever; it seemed that way at the time. Isn't it weird how life works out?"

"Um..." Teva wasn't sure what to say to that. "I...How much did you see?"

"Well, I was kinda doing a lot of different things at the time, but I caught a little bit of it. Not the beginning or anything. I think just a brief snippet toward the end." Hurriedly, Will blurted out, "That doesn't make you uncomfortable does it? Oh my god, it does. I shouldn't have said anything. Forget I said that."

Forcing herself to laugh lightly and push away the remembered fear, Teva said, "No, it's alright. I mean, it happened. We've discussed it, and we both know that wasn't him, that was the drug reacting with some shit in his brain, and making him do fucked up stuff."

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Switch agreed. "Ghost seems like a pretty cool guy."

"He is," she replied matter-of-factly.

They talked for awhile longer, and ended the call with Switch making her promise to have Ghost call him. "You're like my sister now...or something...so I gotta make sure he's treating you well..._or...something_. Oh my god, I'm so awkward!" She could almost hear him slapping himself. "I tried to make a joke, and it just went so wrong so quickly. I'm sorry, Feral. I'm sorry you have to put up with my bad jokes. Please forgive me!" The last was added in an exaggerated fashion.

It made her laugh so hard that she was still chuckling to herself about it as she arrived at the clinic that day, and they got to their routine.

Brandon was doing the parallel bars, of course, and she was so excited that it tasted like sweet, candied ginger on her tongue. He was so close to the end! So close! Just two more steps, and then...and then... She didn't know what came after that, but it had to be better than this clinic-limbo.

Taking a deep breath, Brandon grabbed onto the bars and hauled himself onto his feet, getting his grip firmly in place before starting off.

"I'm doing this today," he told Eric, who he knew was standing right in front of him.

"Then let's see it," the troll prompted. It sounded like a dare.

Brandon took another steadying breath and picked up his foot to take his first step. He counted the steps as he went along, wanting to just rush the damn bars but knowing it'd be stupid to try it. His first several steps were almost normal with him actually putting more weight on his legs than on his arms, but it shifted more and more as he continued on his trek. When he passed the halfway point he got that little antsy burst of adrenaline that all creatures tended to feel when they knew home was just around the corner.

"Almost there," he mumbled, just a little cheer to himself that he didn't expect anyone to react to. They stayed quiet, which was exactly what he wanted. It was just him and the bars, narrowed down to a tiny, dark space in his own little world with nothing to distract him. All he had to do was reach the end. Move one arm, one foot, another arm, another foot-not necessarily in that order, just whatever was necessary to keep moving. Simple. Keep his balance. Slow and easy. He was almost home.

His arms trembled as he kept counting the steps, and for a moment he thought he'd lose it. He shook his head against the negative thought. Failure was not an option this time, not when he was right there. He continued to stall out though, needed to take a few breaths, but he knew that the longer he stood there the more rapidly tired he would become.

"Come on," he ground out quietly between his teeth, getting a little angry at himself for having stopped in the first place.

A voice broke through into his silent world, coming from where Eric should've been, but it wasn't Eric's voice.

"You've got this, B, you're right there," Teva urged. "Two more steps."

"Two more steps," he repeated, and readjusted his grip on the bars. He took one, and had to stop again.

"Don't you quit on me now, Bran," Teva ordered. In his head, he replaced his name with the word 'soldier.' She sounded like a fucking drill sergeant. "Man up. It's just one small step."

He snorted. "One giant leap."

"Yeah, well, if you take it..." She leaned forward and whispered some very motivational promises into his ear concerning their bed and doing naughty things with those flavored body paints.

"Okay," he gasped out hurriedly, and waited for her to back up again. Sucking in a series of long, deep breaths, he forced one hand to slide forward a little more, and smiled when it wrapped around the end of the bar. The other hand moved a little faster. Now it was just the foot. One small step for him, one giant leap towards...kinky bedroom promises. _God_, he was such a typical guy.

Whatever, it got him moving, so who cared.

Forcing his foot to slide forward those last few inches, he felt it slip just off the end of the mat a little, and suddenly the sex wasn't as important anymore. He did it! He really did it! After months of work and being holed up in the clinic and not having much independence; the restrictions and the scoldings and the tests and being woken up in the night for checks; after all the frustrating failures and the sense of being lost and the pain and the weakness; he had reached the end. He could go home.

In a moment of pure joy, he let go of the bars and flung his arms out ahead of him, completely trusting that Teva wouldn't let him fall. She caught him up in an awkward hug, laughing as she asked Eric to bring the chair around before she dropped her idiot boyfriend on his ass. There was the usual applause and congratulations coming from the Reyeses, but there were other voices and cheers too. Apparently Brandon had picked up more of an audience than he'd realized.

"Figured today would be the day," Peters said as he neared the chair, and placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "Well done, son."

Brandon rolled his eyes, but was still beaming. "I'm letting that one slide for today. So what's next? When do I sign myself out of here?"

He was answered by Eric's deep voice. "Hold on there, slugger. Just because you walked the walk doesn't mean I'm done with you yet. You're not getting out of here until you've finished your whole session."

"_And,_" Peters continued, "there are several things we need to discuss with both you and Teva regarding your home care and signs of any complications you may encounter."

"I have a list of exercises you'll need to do daily," Eric jumped in again, "and don't think just because you won't be staying with us that it means you get me off your back completely. You, my friend, are stuck with me for at least another two weeks. We'll set up a schedule."

Peters spoke again. "And you have your next treatment in five days. Unfortunately that means you'll be required to check back in through the following day. Your seizures are not something that can be managed at home."

"No shit," Brandon answered quickly so he could get a word in. "Are we done now? We can talk about all this later. Eric. PT. Let's go."

He clapped his hands to get everybody moving along, bringing forth more laughter. All the little rules and schedules and concerns didn't matter to him at the moment. The only thing he cared about was that he had well and truly just earned his ticket out of there. He was finally free.

Physical therapy went even better than usual, Teva thought. Brandon was pumped about having made it to the end of the parallel bars, and his impending release. His excitement fueled him to push himself harder, to push them all, if Teva was being honest, and they had to remind him on several occasions to not burn himself out.

"You'll need some energy when we get home," she reminded him.

Eric shot her a wicked look, and waggled his deep brow ridge. He nudged Brandon playfully with his elbow. "Uh oh, looks like she's got some plans for you."

Rolling her eyes before Bran could say anything about what she'd promised him-certain activities involving clever tongue manipulations and curious fingers were definitely on the menu-Teva drawled, "Not like that, perv. The stairs." Her tone was so dry and sarcastic, that it left no room for further innuendo.

Bran's therapist thankfully took the hint and dropped it. Her words also had her intended effect on Brandon, taking some of the wind out of his sails. After PT, Brandon had a shower, and got changed into some clothes, real clothes, jeans and a t-shirt-Teva had brought some of his things to the clinic, but nothing too difficult to get in or out of-and then wheeled back to his room.

There some of the ward staff members showed up with a little cake and some cheerful goodbye messages. Mattie threw her arms around Brandon and tearfully cried, "I'm gonna miss you, you pain in the ass."

He hugged her back and patted her between her shoulder blades, his face a mask of bemusement. "Thanks, I think."

Finally, after lunch and a long meeting with the doctor where he finalized the discharge and they got Brandon's outpatient care set up. He was outfitted with an exercise plan, and some of those weird stretchy resistance bands, and Eric stopped by to show Brandon how to do his exercises at home. Then he handed them a walker, and made Brandon try a few steps with it. "Don't overdo it with that thing at first. Take it easy. A few steps doesn't mean you're ready to motor around the neighborhood with that. Go slowly, let yourself get used to it, build up some more strength. Use the chair when you have to. Ain't no shame in it, turbo."

Then they left, and the jubilation on Brandon's face as they went out into the sunshine was obvious.

Teva leaned in close, and kissed his cheek, saying quietly, "Congratulations. Now let's go home."

* * *

_This is really it,_ Brandon thought as Teva wheeled him out to the car. He was so thrilled he didn't even wince when she shoved the chair _and_ the walker into the back seat. It didn't matter that Eric was having him come back in two days for a full PT session, or that he'd be back for the night in five days for his treatment. All that mattered was that he could actually start living in his own place again, existing with Teva as a fairly normal couple, doing things on his own time in his own way. Strangely enough, this was even better than when he walked out of jail after four months for his little violent incident in the street. At least there he had his own room where nobody bothered him, except to tell him when he could go out to the yard or the cafeteria or down to his job in the library.

Brandon scribbled away on his tablet on the way home, too busy penning everything down about his monumental day to worry about Teva's driving. She parked the car outside of the storage garage to let him out, and piled the various belongings he had accumulated at the clinic on his lap so she wouldn't have to make extra trips. Once she got Rena settled in, she took back some of the stuff so he could push himself along while she handled the walker, directing him vocally if he needed to turn or adjust his direction.

"I'm going to take everything upstairs, then come back for you," she informed him once they'd gotten inside the lower level of the safe house. He waited patiently at the bottom, hoping he could actually handle the trip up. Part of his PT had involved some stair-stepper type machinery, but actually having to navigate up a whole flight was a whole different story, even with assistance.

Still, it _had_ to be better than the whole wheelchair ride of terror.

"Okay, you ready?" Teva asked when she came back down.

He reached his arm up to grab for her. "How, exactly, are we doing this?" he asked.

She stooped down to loop the arm over her shoulders. "Easy. I'll brace you on one side, and you grip the rail with the other. Try not to trip me."

"Ditto," he said with a little huff as she got him to his feet.

His free hand sought out the rail, and the second he found it he transferred more of his weight around so it was balanced between his arms and legs a little better, just like on the parallel bars. The climb was a bit awkward, to say the least, and he and Teva managed to run each other against the wall a couple times on the way up. It made them laugh more than anything else, and Brandon declared that on the way down he was just going to sit on his butt and slide himself to the bottom one step at a time. That seemed like the safest route given the options.

Teva got him settled on the couch before she went back for his chair, and upon sinking into the soft cushions he realized he was actually pretty damn tired. All the excitement and extra exercise was finally taking its toll on him, so he stretched himself out and wrapped his arms around the little pillow. The light throw blanket was draped over him a few minutes later, and he smiled as Teva kissed him on the forehead.

"Are you going to pick something up or make something for dinner?" he asked through a yawn.

"You tell me," she answered. "What do you want for your first meal as a free man?"

Brandon smiled as he thought it over for a second. "Fettucini…with chicken and broccoli. Oh, and a side salad with Italian dressing, and French bread."

"Wow, B. That's...very specific." He detected a little surprise in her tone, which only made him laugh.

"There's a place called Tony's not too far from here that does take-out," he informed her, "_or_ if you're going to cook, wake me up when you get started and I can help you. I promise I won't cut off a finger. I _can_ still handle a knife, you know."

"Yeah, I distinctly remember you got yours stuck halfway to the hilt in an electric pole when we first hooked back up," she teased.

"And I distinctly remember being in the middle of a complete mental breakdown, so it doesn't count," he pointed out. "Really, I can help. Or you can just order out. I don't really care which."

Without having come to any real decision, Teva simply promised him that she'd wake him up when it was time. Nodding at that, he quirked another boyish smile as he reminded her what they had planned for dessert. That resulted in finding himself with one of her fingers sliding across his lips, then inside his mouth where the surprise cherry flavor tingled on his taste buds.

"Sweet dreams," she purred into his ear, then backed away, leaving him to his sleep.

He _did_ have sweet dreams.

Grinning, Teva stuck her finger in her mouth, and sucked off the remnants of the cherry-flavored paint as she walked into the kitchen. She surveyed the cupboards, and the fridge, taking stock of the contents even though she knew it was hopeless. Like she just happened to have chicken fettuccine with broccoli and a salad with Italian dressing just _lying_ around.

She was going to have to go to Tony's. Teva wasn't brave enough to tackle the supermarkets just as everybody was getting out of work. It would be chaos.

Besides, she thought to herself as she headed for the door, Brandon needed to realize that she wasn't one of those dinner-on-the-table-by-seven type of live-ins. He was going to have to learn how to compensate for his eyesight, and make his own food like a big boy. She was willing to do a lot of things for him, put up with a lot of craziness, but Teva absolutely was not going to transform herself into Suzy Homemaker just for him.

At the restaurant, she placed Bran's order, and after perusing the menu, she tacked on a bruschetta appetizer, portabella mushroom gnocchi, a lobster tail, and two pieces of tiramisu. "I guess I better make it look like I'm making a passing attempt at eating healthy, hey?" Teva dryly remarked to the hostess, who laughed at her expression. "Give me a side salad too, but can you make the dressing calorically cancel out any positive benefits I might receive from these veggies? I'm talking your creamiest, fattiest, most flavorful dressing you offer-"

"How about the blue cheese?" the girl chuckled. "It tastes amazing."

"That _must_ mean its bad for me," Teva agreed.

"Straight to your hips," the hostess giggled.

On the way back to the apartment, she slid into a liquor store, and found the champagne aisle. There on the bottom shelf was exactly what she was looking for, a champagne bottle filled with sparkling grape juice. With a little laugh, Teva checked out, and hauled it all home with her, doing some tricky maneuvering with the bags, and turning the handle just enough that she could bump the door open the rest of the way with her hip.

"Food!" she called unceremoniously, and went to put everything down in the kitchen. The first thing Teva did was slide the grape juice into the freezer. It would cool faster that way.

She was getting plates out of the cupboard when Brandon wheeled in the room slowly. "Need help?" he asked. Teva was pleased to note the presence of the wheelchair. Those stairs had taken a lot out of him. It was probably for the better that he'd chosen to use his chair, and showed that he actually was being smart about his recovery even though he no longer had an entire staff of people devoted to keeping him in line.

"No, I got it," she replied, shrugging off his offer. "I'm just transferring everything onto plates so that we can pretend I cooked."

He chuckled and rolled up to the empty spot at the table. Teva had moved one of the chairs into the spare bedroom for the time being in preparation of his return. In fact, she'd done her best to see that he would have an easy time getting around the apartment in general. Still grinning, Brandon asked hokely, "So what's for dinner, muffin?"

"Call me that again, and I will stab you," she breezed, and set the bread and bruschetta on the table. "Your French bread is at twelve o' clock, to the right is a platter with bruschetta and garlic toast, and..." Reaching behind her, she swiped the butter dish off the counter, "Butter is to the left of the bread." A small plate was set in front of him, and she offered him a large square of paper towel, then slipped into the seat to his right to be in easy reach of the food.

Brandon paid her 'cooking' lavish compliments, which she, of course, accepted with grace and modesty. "I know, I'm awesome."

After her first two pieces of bruschetta, she got up to take the grape juice out of the freezer. As Teva was peeling off the aluminum, she said, "I know it's not real champagne, but I thought it was kind of cute..." She popped the cork off, and found two glasses, filling them about halfway and delivering them to the table. "In celebration of your escape," she joked.

As they moved through 'courses,' and Teva stuffed herself until she was barely able to move, and passing out due to seafood-coma, Brandon would reach over and periodically touch her hand as though simply to verify that she was really there, and that they were really at home, away from the clinic for good. This wasn't a temporary visit this time. Coffee and tiramisu was really the icing on the cake, and she groaned, patting her stomach. "It looks like I'm pregnant," she snorted.

He chuckled as well. "With a food baby?"

"Oh, Jesus," she sighed happily, "I do love food. I'll love you forever, food-baby. You were delicious." Tiredly, she began gathering up dishes, and remarking, "I'm sorry, B, but I think I need to take a coma before I can even contemplate putting anything else in my mouth."

"Agreed," Brandon huffed, stacking a few dishes on his lap, and wheeling them to the sink as well.

"I'll load the dishwasher later," Teva added, and headed for the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later, they were both asleep, stretched out on the bed. _Welcome home, Brandon._

* * *

Brandon had no idea how long they had been asleep for when he woke up, his arm wrapped around Teva's middle. Strangely enough, his first instinct was to check the window just like he did every morning back in the old apartment, utilizing his own personal sundial to determine if his early wakening was _too_ early. What dawned on him first wasn't the fact that he couldn't see the window though, but that the safe house didn't really _have_ windows. They were secured, locked down, built to make it impossible for passersby on the street to see in, or for potential detainees to break out. The slip in memory actually made Brandon long for his home that he'd never again be able to return to, hitting him so hard that it almost made him feel sick.

But at least he hadn't woken up afraid. That was a perk. He was comfortable, and safe, and had Teva there to help him start again with a new life. He'd have a better home with her anyway, and would adopt new habits that would help him adjust to whatever this altered lifestyle had in store for him. That would have to be good enough, _was_ good enough. Anything else was just sentimental bullshit that he could set aside.

Doing his best not to wake her, knowing he would fail because Teva was a light sleeper and woke up _every_ time he slipped out of bed before her, Brandon moved himself off the mattress and down into his chair.

"Bran, where're you going?" Teva mumbled.

"Bathroom," he answered back quietly, which was true, but it left him wondering what to do with himself beyond that. He felt awake, _morning_ awake, but that didn't mean it was morning. He'd slept a few extra hours the day before, and they'd gone to bed earlier than normal. For all he knew it was three o'clock, and he had no business being up for anything more than a bathroom break.

_That_ turned out to be a little more difficult than he anticipated. The bathroom was a little bigger than the one in his old place, but that still didn't mean it was designed for easy wheelchair access. Basically it just had more counter space, which was not really all that helpful given the current circumstance. He wound up wheeling out to the living room, grabbing his walker and sort of hooking it up over one arm so he could drag it along beside him back to the bathroom, and using it to get himself around in the smaller space.

"No problem," he huffed as he plopped himself back into his chair once he was finished. "Score one for being self-reliant."

The accomplishment sort of motivated him a little bit, and he once again dragged the walker with him back out to the front room. Leaving it beside the kitchen table, he rolled around in search of where Teva might have left his tablet the day before, finally locating it up on the desk. Feeling around in curiosity, he also discovered his stack of paintings up there, along with all his supplies. Good to know.

As Brandon rolled back to the coffee table, he turned on his tablet and slipped in the earpiece. "Deuce, what time is it?" he asked, knowing the machine had a built-in clock so it could log entries. He'd never really needed to use it at the clinic, and had actually forgotten the feature was there. His daily routine was pretty much all the clock he'd needed when things didn't change around all that much, and everything that wasn't routine was decided by everyone around him anyway, so time was fairly irrelevant (except on Seizure Day, but he could pretty well gauge that on his own, now).

"Five forty-three," Nate's voice promptly answered.

That wasn't too bad. Later than he'd feared, but still too early to be waking up Teva. She'd gut him.

Setting the tablet down on the table, he accidentally bumped the machine up against something. Reaching out, he discovered it to be the missing cherry paint jar, so he pulled the rest of the kit out from underneath and returned the paint to its proper place for now. Teva would _really_ gut him if he rolled back in there all prepped and ready for sex at five forty-three in the morning.

Instead, he spun back to the kitchen where he reclaimed his walker, hoisting himself back up to his feet so he could better reach the sink. They hadn't used _that_ many dishes the night before (there were only two of them, after all), but it still took up a lot of time rinsing them and placing them back down in the washer caddy. He pretty much had to grip the walker with one hand, lean the elbow of his dish-rinsing arm on the edge of the sink for balance, lower himself back into the chair behind him so he could reach the caddy without fear of tipping the walker over, and pull himself back up again to repeat the process with the next dish.

He made a mental note to tell Eric that doing simple house chores should be on the list of daily exercises.

Making coffee was the next step. Lucky for him, Teva had left everything he needed right out in the open, so it was just a matter of again balancing himself with one hand on the walker while he took care of everything else with his other hand. Once the pot was going he moved the machine closer to the edge of the counter so he could reach it without standing, then fell heavily back into the chair, pretty much done with being on his feet for the time being. Making Teva a full breakfast in bed would have to wait for when he could move around on his own a bit better.

_Then again_, he thought with an impish smile. As bitter as she liked her coffee, Teva liked her sweets as much as he did.

As he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, Brandon went and retrieved the paint kit from the living room. Lining up all the jars on the kitchen table, he opened them all one at a time, mindful to keep the right lids with the right jars. Using his fingers, he sampled each of the different paints so he could determine what color they were, then rearranged them in proper rainbow order with brown and white at the end so it'd be easier to remember where each one was. Pulling out the provided sterilized brushes, he stripped himself of his t-shirt and went to work on Teva's 'breakfast.' On his torso.

Knowing it would probably come out god-awful since he couldn't see, he still did his best to paint a little morning scene on his body. A yellow, banana-y sun with orange rays, blueberry sky, vanilla clouds, melon-flavored green grass across his stomach, and a chocolate picket fence upon which were perched a few cherry cardinals with orange beaks.

Or maybe he'd just painted a big, colorful, tasty blob on himself. If that was the case, he'd call it abstract art as per his normal style and no one would be the wiser. It was the thought that counted, anyway.

Grinning like an idiot, he poured Teva's coffee (_without_ spilling, thank you very much) into a travel mug, screwed on the lid so he could hold it between his legs without sloshing the hot liquid all over his lap, and rolled back into the bedroom. It had to be around seven by then, maybe late enough that she wouldn't gut him.

Taking a chance, he called out softly to her. "Teva? Wake up, angel. I've got something for you."

Her face was partially buried in the pillow, so Teva's "what?" came out muffled. Moving a little slowly, she stretched her arm out toward him, and flipped her palm up, indicating he should put it there. It occurred to her a second later that he wouldn't see the gesture, so she sat up, looked at him, and after a fuzzy moment of confusion, started laughing.

Flopping on the bed, Teva rolled until she could touch his knees, still chortling intermittently. "You're so fucking adorable," she laughed, and reached between his legs for the travel mug. "For me?" Teva queried, her voice light and sweet. It was a far cry from her usual angry bear whose hibernation has been interrupted routine.

Brandon nodded, and said, "Yes, it's for you. You know I only like a touch of coffee in my creamer."

Her smile was lop-sided as she pulled the coffee out of his grasp, and popped the lid off. "Oh yeah," she said, staring down into the black liquid surface. There was a tiny iridescent sheen floating on the top in a little cluster, and she smiled to see it. Teva had splurged that time, and gotten the real stuff, amazing, imported fresh coffee beans, so good they still had the natural oils in it. None of that freeze-dried bullshit. "I can tell this is for me. Hello, baby," Teva purred, "It's been too long. Mama's got a need only you can fill."

As she dirty-talked her coffee into submission between sips, Brandon chuckled and laughed, and she reached out, placing a hand on his thigh. "I have to do mysterious feminine things in the bathroom for a minute. If you can get on the bed without getting that paint all over it, I would highly suggest you do so, because I'm going to show you just how much I appreciate this as soon as I'm back."

With an eager grin, he told her, "I'll get it done."

"Excellent," she agreed, and moved off the bed, taking her coffee with her out into the hallway and straight into the bathroom.

It wasn't so much that she needed to do mysterious feminine things. Well, okay, she added with a look at her ladyparts, maybe she should do some personal grooming. It had been a couple weeks since they'd really had the opportunity to...ahem...so she may have let some things slide a little. So Teva relieved herself, and washed her hands in the sink, then she brushed her teeth. Setting the toilet seat lid back down, she re-situated herself, and propped her leg up, grabbing the shaving cream and razor to do a quick pass over them. Then it was time for ladypart maintenance.

Maybe she ought to consider going in for that laser electrolysis crap. Teva had heard that worked well, and the results lasted awhile. There was some kind of membership though. She would have to find a place with a good rep, and decent prices, and put it on her to-do list once she was back in New Orleans.

With her free hand, she finished up her coffee, and rejoined her boyfriend in the bedroom. "Hi," she chirped, and took two running steps, leaping up onto the bed so she could land on all fours over him. Of course, that kind of scared the crap out of Brandon. He yelped, and grabbed her waist hard, shouting, "Angel! Jesus! Warn me when you're about to pancake on me, okay?"

She scoffed. "Puh-lease, like I would ever intentionally 'pancake'." Her voice dripped with skepticism. "I don't even know if that's a real thing."

"It is," Bran assured her with a false air of authority.

"I think you're full of it," she whispered, and brushed her lips over his. "But I'll pretend to believe you if it makes you feel any better."

"Ooh, ouch," he shot back. "That hurts. Like I'm not trustworthy or something? Not cool, Teva."

"Shut up," Teva replied, and licked his mouth playfully, then started working her way down his body. "Mm," she hummed, and swirled her tongue around his nipple, swiping up the yellow sun. "I love that you painted the sun around your nipple. I think that's my favorite part."

"You can tell what it is?" Brandon asked in surprise.

"Most of it," she answered honestly. "I've got the sun, and I'm fairly sure this big blue piece is supposed to be the sky."

"The clouds?" he wanted to know.

"The white must have mixed with the blue. All I can see are lighter blue blobs." Before Brandon could frown in disappointment, she ran her teeth over his other nipple. "Next time just remember you have to go around. The colors won't sit on top of each other." With her tongue, Teva wrote the word 'artist' in the blue paint on his upper chest, then ran it straight down the center of his abs to his navel, picking up some red blob, and what might have been a fence, and the green grass below it. "Mm," she commented aloud, and made a show of sucking her lower lip into her mouth to get the vestiges of paint off of them, not for the sight, but for the sound. Noise could be just as erotic a tool as visual imagery, and she could be good at making noise if she wanted to be. Hell, she was actually a halfway decent dirty-talker when she put her mind to it. "Tastes good," Teva purred, releasing her lip from her mouth slowly, drawing her teeth over it in a move that was purely for her.

Brandon shivered a little as she hovered over him, letting her breath wash over his skin, contrasting with the feel of the paint, which had matched his body temperature. "Teva," he said her name, a hinting of pleading in the tone.

She swirled her tongue around his belly-button, then flicked inside briefly, making him jump a little. Teva laughed, low and subconsciously seductive. "This is fun," she drawled, and Brandon groaned at the promise of slow, erotic torture, and a steep climb to the little death.

* * *

**TBC…**


	14. Chapter 14

Coming Home

Chapter Fourteen

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Alex Kade and Lily Zen

* * *

Notes: The conclusion of the sex scene from last chapter.

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Teva was taking her time with her 'breakfast,' and Brandon tried very hard to be a good human plate and not squirm around too much. He was failing miserably, his fingers clutching at the sheets, at the headboard, the pillows, at _her_. She was licking up every detail of his body doodle with purposeful precision, making damn certain that not the slightest bit of paint lingered on his skin. He thought she had probably kept going long after his little morning scene had disappeared, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

"Hey," he whimpered as she worked her way up to the side of his neck and sucked on his earlobe, "there's no paint up there."

"Mmm, I can change that," she whispered.

Brandon turned his face so he could do a little tasting of his own, catching her lips and kissing her deeply before continuing the conversation. "Thought you weren't the artistic type?"

"I might make an exception this time," she said in a low, breathy voice, then abruptly rolled off of him, leaving him pouting slightly. "Relax, I'll be right back."

Brandon sighed, and did his best to wait patiently for her return. Slowly, a grin began to stretch across his face when she didn't come back right away, and he heard some shuffling around in the front room. He knew what she was doing, but he wasn't going to say anything until she came back in.

"Hey, B?" she started when she finally returned. "I think we're missing a color."

Yup, there it was. His smile became a bit Cheshire as he reached his hands up beneath the pillow. Another good thing about his chair? He could stash stuff in the seat behind him without anyone noticing.

First he pulled out one of the brushes and twirled it between his fingers like a drummer twirls their sticks. Arching his eyebrows up, he then revealed the jar of purple that he had very intentionally not used in his previous artwork. "_Somebody _promised me something very dirty involving a popsicle, and I happen to know that grape popsicles are your favorite."

His eyes flicked down towards himself suggestively before shifting back up in her general direction, causing her to laugh. The jar and brush were plucked from his hands and placed on whatever tray she had brought in that must've contained the rest of the paints. A second later the comforter disappeared from the bed entirely, followed by a tug on his pajama bottoms.

"These have to go if we're making popsicles," she said in a matter-of-fact fashion.

"You are absolutely right," he agreed, maneuvering himself so she could strip him down the rest of the way. There was no more movement for a few seconds after that, enough so that it made him slightly uncomfortable. "Angel?"

"Shh, I'm studying my canvas," she scolded, making him bite his lip in humor. Funny what could bring out the creative side in a person. "Okay, try not to move."

"O-" The brush touched him lightly, running up the sensitive area on the inside of his thigh where his leg met his torso. His intended affirmation turned into the exact opposite action, his whole body jerking in reaction to the intense sensation. The brush swiped up across his hip.

Teva slapped him lightly. "Bran, you ruined it! Now I have to start all over again."

Her tongue drawing across the paint to erase his 'mistake' made him squirm even more. "You did that on purpose!" he gasped.

"You can't prove a thing," she mumbled against his skin, her breath and the little buzz from her lips tickling him in that good way even more.

He decided right then and there that edible body paint was going to have to be a staple on their monthly shopping list.

_How best to torture Bran now?_ Teva thought with devilish glee. She bit her lip, and dipped the brush in the paint again, and with a light touch she pulled Brandon's erection up a little, trailing the brush in grandiose curlicues right above his pubic hair. He tried not to squirm, but it was a sensitive area. She, of course, knew this, and had chosen it deliberately. His breath came out in a deliciously agonized groan when she tightened her grip on him slightly, and stroked once from root to tip, then just held him there with a loose fist.

"Teva, you are..." Words failed him as she brought a new brush to his body, adding tiny yellow flowers onto her purple vines.

"Hm?" she murmured innocently. "What were you saying, B?" Taking the blue paint brush, Teva laughingly drew it over his balls.

"Huh?" he replied eloquently.

Seeing how he was thoroughly distracted, Teva decided to finish her masterpiece with a smattering of useless green dots. She sat up to survey her work from a distance, absently adjusting the angle of his dick as she moved, and nodded thoughtfully. "There, that's nice," she murmured, and drew her fingertip around the flared tip as she did so.

"What's nice?" Brandon asked, his voice a little breathless.

"Shh, I'm getting in touch with my creative side," Teva admonished jokingly.

"I think you've found it," her boyfriend replied as she released his cock, and knelt over him, following her artwork's pattern in reverse, cleaning it all up with her tongue. She scraped her teeth over his hipbone lightly, and felt him shudder. Her response was a chuckle.

She carefully avoided his straining length, except for one cat-like nuzzle of her cheek against the surface. Gasping, Brandon's hands flew to her shoulders, then up her neck to her head. No pressure, just cradling, and that was fine. Teva rewarded him with a flick of her tongue over the tip, then leaving a wet trail as she slid down to his blue balls. By the time she was done 'erasing' the paint there, his fingers were tight in her hair. Still no pressure, of course, because Bran was good like that, just that desperate grip as he fought to keep his noises to a minimum.

His head was kicked back, eyes shut tightly despite the fact that it was an irrelevant gesture, and he panted as she slid her tongue lower, licking a rough circle with her tongue as stiff as she could make it over his perineum. Brandon jerked like she'd shocked him, and a hoarse cry left him. "Teva," he begged, "Angel, please come here. Enough teasing."

"Enough?" she replied, making it clear that she wasn't quite sure she agreed. However, she obeyed-_for now_-and pulled away, slithering up the bed to his mouth. "You've had enough?" she whispered against his lips. A second later Teva found herself otherwise occupied as Brandon surged against her, taking her mouth by force like a general conquering a foreign land. She made a weak, wanton sound that might have embarrassed her under normal circumstances, and parted her lips, letting his tongue play with hers until she submitted to him, clutching him close as everything in her went soft and liquid.

Her thighs vibrated with tension, tight on either side of him. His hands slid down her back firmly, almost like he was trying to push the tight coil of need out of her, then cupped her ass. Brandon tugged, and brought her hips down on him; she rocked against him as they both made appreciative sounds.

He pushed her back a little when it got to be too much, and demanded, "Paint."

"What?" Teva asked.

"Paint," Brandon elucidated as he caught his breath, "Where's the red paint? You look good in red." He held out his hand, and she obligingly plucked the correct paint off of the tray, placing it in his grasp. "Sit," he ordered. Carefully, he balanced the paint on his stomach, took the brush up with one hand, and with the other he reached out for her. Feeling over her abdomen, he appeared to be seeking for a particular spot. When his fingers touched her ribs, and she flinched a little, he smiled.

His art was even more abstract than usual, Brandon's brush seemingly following the lines of her rib bones, then deviating to trace a path down her sternum to her navel.

"Yellow," he called, handing her the red jar.

They swapped, and from her belly button, he drew a series of light, squiggly lines.

"I feel like you're giving me war paint," Teva chuckled, looking down at herself. Just for that he painted a large spiral on her left breast while she was still laughing.

The next color requested was brown, and that was a line following her collarbone, then he made her sit back for a second so he could paint three moderately sized circles from underneath her belly button, ceasing just before they touched the trimmed section of hair just above her slit.

"Now how are you going to get it off, genius?" she snarked, covering up for the weakness the tease of the brush against her skin had inspired.

With a smirk, Brandon set the paint aside, and cupped her rear, sliding up her back. With each inch he passed over, he put a little more pressure on her to lean forward until she was hovering over him on all fours again. "Just like this," he said, and kissed her briefly, using her mouth as a landmark to find her collarbone, and the chocolate stripe there. Even after it was clean, he nibbled at the skin, having gathered that just that little edge of teeth could go a long way with her. Then down to her breasts, where he licked off his yellow spiral, and sucked on her nipple until she was panting. He took it between his teeth, teasing just the sensitive tip with light, fast flicks of his tongue, and pulled, biting ever so slightly as she shuddered and moaned his name.

When he released her, Brandon painted a similar spiral on her other breast, though there was no paint there. However, he must not have wanted her other nipple to feel neglected, because he paid that one the same amount of attention before licking around her breast, swiping off part of the line that led down her sternum. "Scoot up," he told her, his voice low and quiet. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs, and pulled her toward him a bit.

Teva shuffled up his body until his head was about level with her breasts, maybe a little lower. She locked her elbows to keep herself up in position, then gasped as he touched his mouth to her ribs. It was one of those things where she'd had time to prepare herself for it, had thought that knowing it was coming wouldn't affect her as strongly, but she was just too sensitive there. No amount of mental intervention was going to stop her from reacting to the caress of her boyfriend's tongue there. She shivered hard in a good way, her nipples tingled, and goddammit, she _mewled_.

The lower his mouth went, the harder it was for her to stay up on all fours like that, and she was running out of mattress to scoot up on before she'd run smack into the headboard. Brandon had to know that.

"Sit up," he told her.

She moved to sit next to him, but he stopped her with his hands going tight on her thighs. "No, not like that. Right here, over my mouth. Hands on the headboard so you can get some support."

Knowledge was dawning on her, and she smiled, thinking to herself, _Oh, thank god_. Teva had managed to find herself a man who not only _would_ go down on a woman, but he kind of enjoyed it too. They'd never done it quite like this before, but first time for everything, right? She was about to make some dirty, flirty comment when the words flew out of her head, all because Brandon used two of his fingers to open her up, and licked a long line from one end of her slit to the other. Whatever she'd been about to say was lost in a sharp, in-drawn breath that ended with a long 'ohhhh,' which might have been part of an 'oh my god.'

He went deep, flicking his tongue inside of her as her body bloomed for him, and up to her clit where he'd lick and suck until her breath was coming high and fast, and she'd moan his name with a particular urgent quality to it that he only ever heard like this when he had his mouth on her delicate parts. Teva continually had to remind herself not to do what her primal brain was urging her to, and fuck herself down onto his face. It helped that the headboard was thick, and had enough room to place her hands on if she turned them inward, pushing up in counterbalance to that animalistic urge. It was a lot harder to be passive, to let him do all the work when her position gave her so much potential control.

Brandon's hands kept her at the perfect angle, her thighs on either side of his head, arms wrapped around them. She lost track of just how much time passed, and couldn't really begin to say exactly what it was that pushed her over the edge. Brandon wasn't one those 'alphabet' guys; she'd had that done to her before, and knew what it felt like. No, he had, like, tactics, and skill. Mad skillz, if Teva was being honest. All she knew was something changed slightly, and the arousal in her tightened like a fist around a balloon, only she was the balloon, and she exploded in a rush of air and shaking and crying out, the fingers of one hand tangled in her boyfriend's hair as he worked her through it, drawing her climax out until she was too sensitive, and coming down with a long, sighed-out, "Oh, _fuck_."

He released her, laughing, and she collapsed horizontally on the bed, curling up around her pillow basking in the afterglow and the tiny little spasms still sparking through her, her right foot draped on his chest. Brandon reached up, trailing his fingers over her ankle, tracing circles around the delicate bones. "Angel, you pay a man such lavish compliments," he drawled, his voice hot with amusement and arousal.

She snorted. "Trust me, well-deserved."

With a smile on his face, Brandon curved his hands over her ankle and calf, almost in a hug. "Thank you."

As soon as she recovered, Teva was going to think of a way to pay him back for that awesomeness. But for now...her thighs clenched...she still needed a minute.

While Teva continued to recover, Brandon smiled a little and reached out for whatever paint jar was most handy. Taking a little taste, he discovered it to be the vanilla, and set about idly doodling on her foot, then around her ankle before he reached for another color (orange) and began drawing little starbursts up her leg.

"That's going to get paint all over the sheets when I move, you know," Teva commented quietly.

He shrugged, and scooted himself up a little so he could pull the tray of jars closer to himself as well as reach further up her body. "There's another set in the closet, and we can wash these."

Shifting again, he gently pushed her leg off him and sought out her hand, tugging on it a little in a silent request for her to come closer. She did, and nuzzled her nose up against his before giving him another long, loving kiss. Grinning, he dipped his finger in the still open orange jar and dabbed the paint onto the tip of her nose, kissing it off her before she could throw a fit about it.

"Very cute," she said sarcastically, pressing her lips slightly against his again so he could feel the little smirk on her face.

"I know," he whispered, then pulled away slowly. "Lay on your stomach."

"Isn't it my turn to-?" she started.

"I'm not done yet," he answered, sitting himself all the way up against the headboard.

She snickered at that. "I know you're not done. That's why it's my turn. Popsicle, remember?"

Brandon shook his head. "Teva." He put that little bit of tone into his voice that asked for her to please behave-not an order, just a request, and thankfully she complied without further argument. She was probably more curious than actually wanting to obey, but at least it got her where he wanted her.

Very carefully, Brandon picked up the tray and settled it down between the two of them, once again opening all the jars and taste-testing so he could figure out what colors were where, then rearranging them into their proper order. Turning so he could sit cross-legged and bend over her, he picked up a brush with one hand and felt along her back with the other, seeking out the areas he wanted to paint on.

Working slowly, he set about tattooing her body with the type of work he normally reserved for paper, a full-color spread filled with whatever emotion happened to be passing through him the moment the brush touched the canvas, or in this case, Teva's skin. Remembering what she had said about the colors mixing, he attempted to use that to his advantage, mixing new shades in little puddles on the tray without having a clue if they were the right tint of blue or pink or peach or grey that he was going for. He knew what was in his head though, and he let himself see it how he wanted to.

Teva stayed surprisingly still and silent through the process, allowing him to showcase her scars in bursts of bright color or shaded in darker tones, to turn each of her vertebrae into a string of lights, to run a tangled web of sparking yellow and red up the back of her neck disappearing into her hairline, to break apart the whole image and trickle it down her buttocks as if the painting were a giant piece of glass that had shattered at the bottom, raining little shards of blue and purple and especially grey onto the backs of her legs.

By the time he was done he knew his free hand was probably covered in paint, that he'd more than likely smeared the colors all around in his efforts to paint shapes and shades in their proper spots. It didn't matter, though. This painting wasn't one that would wind up being seen by anyone. In a few minutes it would disappear with the aid of both his tongue and probably the shower, because he'd damn near used up all the little jars on that human 'masterpiece.'

Teva shifted a little, enough to where she could grasp his paint-covered hand and draw it up to her face. She sucked the flavors off one of his fingers for a second, kissed his fingertip, then asked, "Did you sign it?"

He hadn't. Going with what he hoped had turned into the dark shade of grey, his signed just his initials somewhere in the middle of the falling glass on her right ass cheek, then smiled at himself. It was the first work of art he'd ever marked as his own.

That thought put a small frown on his face that Teva must've seen, because the next thing he knew, she was sitting up and asking him what was wrong.

"I feel like I just branded you," he answered, and shoved a paintbrush into her hand. "Doesn't seem right. Put your name on me somewhere so we're even."

She chuckled a little at that. "I'm not signing you, B; I already erased my artwork."

"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at that. "Because comparing what I was before to what I am now, I'd say you did a pretty damn good job sculpting the lump of clay that was handed to you. I _am_ your artwork, angel, so take a little credit for once. Stake your claim on your property."

Reaching for her hand, he gripped her wrist and pulled it so that the brush hovered over the jars. "Are you going to pick a color, or should I do that for you?"

Trying not to sigh, Teva dipped the tip of her paintbrush into whatever color it was hovering over, which happened to be green. Brandon's grip eased, and he dropped his hand into his lap. She understood his concern, she supposed. He'd been painting over her scars, and the area with her rape scarification on it was paid a particular amount of attention. She guessed then that it was natural that his thoughts would turn to branding as he scrawled his mark on her skin, but he needed to realize that she just didn't feel that way about it.

"It's not the same thing," she blurted out.

Brandon's brows drew down in a slightly confused frown.

"The scars on my back, and your name on my skin; they're not the same thing," Teva clarified. "The scars were put there to dominate and demean, and I kept them for a reminder to not forget that wrong. You painting your signature on me," she reached out, grasping Brandon's forearm with her free hand, "That was only meant in fun. Don't take it so seriously."

"Still..." he hesitated.

She squeezed his arm. "I know that you don't think you own me. I don't own you either. You're your own person, and so I am, and us_ choosing_ to be together had nothing to do with dominance or possession." With a little smirk, Teva drawled, "Well, mostly, anyway. I might admit to feeling a little possessive when other chicks try to steal you away."

Chuckling, Brandon wondered, "When has anybody tried to steal me away?"

"That chick the night we went to see Esmeralda," Teva promptly replied.

The sudden grimace on his face said clearer than day that the memory had just returned to him. "Ah, yeah. But I escaped her evil clutches," Brandon told her with false cheer.

She rolled her eyes, and very quickly slapped her name on the right side of his chest. "Bitches need to learn some manners." Teva sealed her grumbled complaint with a tiny kiss right after her miniaturized capital 'a' like it was a period, and that made Brandon snicker a bit. Good.

Putting the brush back on the tray, Teva noted that she was glad she'd been able to turn the mood away from the sudden seriousness of the situation. It wasn't supposed to be time to be serious yet. Brandon had just gotten out of the clinic; they should be playing, and happy, nauseatingly so.

"Kiss me," she requested, sliding her hand up to his shoulder, and scooting closer to him until she was practically in his lap. The move smeared paint all over the sheets. Internally, Teva sighed, hoping that wasn't going to stain, but outwardly she was patiently waiting, waiting, _waiting_ until her patience snapped and it ended up being she who kissed him. Then Brandon's hand was in her hair, and cupping the back of her neck, and it was the kind of kiss that she could happily drown herself in forever. Her other hand slid up over his thigh, and around his midsection to his back, pulling herself closer, or maybe trying to press him forward so that they ended up tangled together in a heap on the mattress, more paint from her back smearing onto the sheets.

Brandon pulled back, breathing coming a little quicker, saying in a rush, "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed frantic kisses along her jaw, then down her neck.

Teva smiled to herself, and echoed the sentiment.

A few minutes later all there was existed in the persistent movement of his length within her, his sweat-slick back under her hands, and her clinging limbs around his body. The edge of teeth as things got rough, soft lips meeting, parting, clinging, and the stroke of their tongues. Her sharp cry as they rolled and she took control, the snap of his hips, her paint being spread from the grip and slide of his hands.

Finally, they were messy and thoroughly loved, laying together, and basking in the fragile bubble of affection they created around each other, keeping the rest of the world at bay.

Brandon was just starting to doze off again when he was awoken by Teva sounding like she was trying to stifle her laughter.

"What's so funny?" he mumbled.

"Oh, nothing," she snickered, "just the paint smeared all over your face."

Brandon _almost_ reached up so he could feel the damage for himself, but remembered at the last second that his hands were definitely covered in multi-colored mess. Altering his course, he grabbed for her instead, trying to smear some of now sticky flavoring on _her_ face. Letting out a little squeak, she pushed his hand away and scrambled off the mattress out of harm's reach.

"Don't make me get in my chair and come after you," he threatened. "I'm pretty fast in that thing now."

"You are _not_ getting in that chair." Her voice came out deadly serious, seeming to bring an end to the game.

"Why not?"

"Because, doofus, you're covered in paint! I don't want to clean that up! Just stay there a sec. I'll get a towel to drape on the seat, then we'll get you in the shower."

The shower. Brandon had no idea how that was going to work. There was a bar in there on one wall, but it was set at a diagonal, meant to be just a grip to keep a person from slipping, not as a support to hold up a grown man. One bar, nowhere to sit, no room to maneuver the walker in there; it all added up to some very limited options. Either Teva was going to have to try to support him and help wash him at the same time, or he was going to have sit on the floor in there. That would probably be the easier option in the long run, though a little awkward because the tube on the detachable showerhead could only reach so far.

"Stand up," Teva ordered once she'd rolled the chair to the bathroom entrance. Gripping onto her shoulders, he did as told and tried to keep most of his weight on his legs as she walked him through to the shower. She moved backwards so he could go forwards, her hands pressed against his ribcage so she could easily catch him if he lost his balance, but the bathroom wasn't anywhere near as long a walk as those parallel bars had been. He did okay until they got to the little edge he needed to step over in order to get _into_ the shower, then he hesitated.

"How are we-?" he started to ask.

"Get in here and sit," she instructed, pulling him forward before he could question her, assuming that meant he was going to be on the floor. Much to his surprise, he found himself plunked down onto what seemed like a little stool. "I _did_ think these things through, you know," she continued, sounding a little put off that he would just assume that she hadn't.

"Sorry," he apologized whole-heartedly, "and thank you."

"You're welcome."

They showered together in the small space, neither of them minding the fact that it was a little cramped around the stool, and Teva made sure that she got all the paint cleaned off Brandon's skin. He felt a little bad that he couldn't do the same for her, but at least the stuff wasn't designed to dry on flesh like magic marker or anything. As long as she was thorough she would get it all.

Once done, they both decided that the morning activities had worn them out a bit again. Smiling, Brandon helped Teva change the sheets like a couple _should_ do, and then they returned to bed for a little bit of a nap.

* * *

Teva woke later with Brandon's arm looped over her waist, his breath fanning against her neck. She smiled a little. This was nice, idyllic. Truthfully, she had never thought she'd have something like this, a relationship-a real one based on more than just sex, though that was definitely an important part of it-where she felt safe enough to have him at her back, to wake slowly, scooting back into the warmth of his body so that she felt him all along the length of her, and knowing that there was no pressure. If she wanted to she could turn around and kiss him; she could also creep out of bed and begin her daily routine. There wasn't anything that said she had to do something about the hard-on pressing against her. Brandon wouldn't complain, or cajole, or expect anything. He'd just kiss her good morning, and start his day if all she wanted to do was get on with hers.

It was as close to perfection as she'd come, and as close to 'home' as Teva had been since she'd lost hers. Sometimes she still found it a little strange that she'd found it with Brandon, because as Switch had pointed out, they hadn't exactly gotten off on the right foot. Teva held grudges. She didn't forget or forgive easily, but something about Brandon-the real Brandon, not the images he projected-had moved her toward acceptance, then forgiveness, and through a whole other set of emotions in a very short time frame. Perhaps, as she'd said all those months ago, it was simply because she did have that big sister, 'let me take care of you' complex, and at the time Brandon had really needed that. It gave her a purpose, and him a buoy to cling to.

Maybe if people knew that, the way she felt about it, her thoughts and theories on how they, two damaged, closed-off people, had come to form this bond so quickly, they'd say it was unhealthy, a poor foundation to base a relationship on. Perhaps they'd be right, if that's all it was: her taking care of him. But it wasn't. There was a mutual exchange there. Brandon gave as much as he got, maybe not exactly the same things in the same ways, because they were different people and had correspondingly different needs, but still, there was lots of giving too.

Moving carefully, Teva nudged Brandon over onto his back. He went with a sleepy grunt, and resettled. When she was sure he wasn't going to wake all the way up, she slowly stretched over him, and snagged the last of the purple body paint. They were going to end up needing to take a trip to the laundromat today, but she thought with a devious grin that it would be worth it.

Sliding under the sheets, she set to work on her 'popsicle.' He never would have brought it up again, but Teva knew that he'd liked the idea quite a bit. It was for that reason, the fact that Brandon would never obligate her to something she'd said, that she cheerfully decided to do it.

Brandon woke up with a questing, "Teva?"

She murmured something in the affirmative, the vibrations traveling through his length.

The sheet was pulled back, not because he needed the sight of her to confirm it, but because he wanted to touch her without the fabric in the way. He groaned. "God, I love you."

Teva laughed with him still in her mouth, and relaxed her jaw wide, taking him in all the way to suck off the remnants of the paint. It was the last coherent thing her boyfriend uttered for awhile, and she felt weirdly triumphant when he came down her throat, his knuckles white where he gripped the sheet desperately.

He settled back on the bed, catching his breath as Teva sat up, capped the last of the grape paint, and wiped her lips. She patted his thigh, and sprang up, totally energized and ready to begin the day.

"I've got to get ready. I'm already behind on my exercise schedule," Teva babbled as she walked into the bathroom, increasing her volume as she went, "And you should probably do your exercises. Breakfast is necessity, I suppose, then add the laundromat onto our list of things to do. Maybe we should call Switch later. He'll probably know some cool tech stuff that could help you out, if you were into that."

As she was brushing her teeth, Teva found herself dancing a little, just tiny swishes of her hips, thinking contentedly that she could maybe get used to this. The whole grown-up relationship thing.

By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, and went to slip into her running clothes, she observed that Brandon was asleep again, and chuckled a little while wiggling into her sneakers. _Just like a man._

"Bran?" Teva questioned softly, nudging him awake again. When he didn't immediately stir, she dropped his sweatpants on his face as a silent hint that he needed to get up and moving. "I'm going out for my run. I put your exercise bands on the couch for you, okay?"

"'kay," he muttered, pulling the pants down off his face. "Kiss?"

She chuckled, gave him a quick kiss goodbye, very sternly told him to do his workout, and left him to do things on his own. _Completely_ on his own. The thought was both liberating and a little scary at the same time, knowing that if he needed help with something he had to fend for himself to get it. That was probably exactly her intention though, her own little way of tossing him out of the nest, so to speak. What better day to start learning to be independent again than the day after earning his freedom?

Finding his bands, he ran through the drills that Eric had taught him, did some other simple things like pushups and crunches, some basic stretch work that would keep him limber, and was trucking around a little bit in his walker when Teva came back in.

"Ooh, sweaty man," she commented fondly, walking over to give him another quick kiss.

"You like it," he answered, and let go of his walker so she'd have to catch him in a hug, just like he'd done the day before when he'd finished his walk on the bars.

"You are lucky I'm also a sweaty mess, otherwise I would've just let you fall," she grunted as she walked him a bit clumsily back to his chair.

"I call bullshit," he smirked.

She touched her finger to his nose. "You're probably right. Come on, we're going to take another quick shower, then we've got things to do today."

After their rinse, they went through a little bit of an ordeal with getting dressed. Brandon insisted on picking out his own clothes, which involved pulling almost everything out of the dresser and closet so he could feel for the style he was looking for. Finding a few v-neck tees, he verified with Teva that he was choosing a white one, then made sure it was his simple brown vest going on over the top, coupled with blue jeans, a brown belt, and brown shoes. Putting everything away took even longer, as he became very OCD in organizing everything by not only type of clothing, but by color. By the time they were finished, Teva's patience seemed just a touch strained, her frustration seeming to increase slightly along with his pickiness and growing agitation at not being able to see to the items in his closet himself. It was too hard to get everything on the hangers and back up on the bar, so he had to settle for essentially giving Teva orders on what he wanted to go where, sometimes changing his mind partway through his directions.

In hindsight, once they'd settled down to eat some breakfast (or as he had taken so much getting the room organized, it was closer to lunch by that point) before going out, he thought it was a wonder she hadn't slapped him. His only saving grace was probably the fact that going through all that today meant in the future, he could really just pick out his own clothes as he saw fit...as long as everything was put back in its proper place on laundry day anyway, which was apparently today, meaning once they got back he'd have to find homes for the things of his that were currently in the hamper. He made a mental note to be less pushy when he was deciding what should go where.

His other goal for the day was to get his comm so he could connect to the rest of the world again, and she had pretty much read his mind about calling Switch for tech advice. Anything that would help him function a little better around his disability would be better than what he had now, even though he _was_ sort of starting to get used to the grey. That didn't mean he had to just sit there and live with it though. If the technology was available, why not use it?

Discussing options with Teva, she and Brandon came to the conclusion that since he'd lost his old comm in a fairly 'normal' fashion (comm theft was not an uncommon occurrence in the age they lived in), it was probably best to just get a new one through proper, legal means. It'd be more expensive, but it was one of those things that having a criminal SIN forced him to have to be more cautious with. If he got randomly scanned or picked up somewhere for something stupid, and was discovered having an unregistered comm, he'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble than the average person would be. Since he would have to be just regular Brandon for a while, it was smarter to just behave like a regular citizen and replace his unit through the official system.

And much to Teva's amusement, Brandon _did_ choose to go down the stairs on his ass one step at a time. It beat the hell out of being terrified that he was going to fall.

* * *

Teva noticed as they pulled up at the laundromat that there was an electronics store a few blocks down, and she mentioned it to Brandon adding, "Maybe we could throw the stuff in the washer, and just head straight down there? That way it'll be ready to go in the dryer by the time we're back, and we won't have to waste so much of the day sitting around."

"Yeah, sure, that sounds good," Brandon agreed easily. "If you're just going to throw the clothes in the washers though, do you think maybe I can just wait in the car until you get back? It'll take you what? Ten minutes tops?"

"That's fine," Teva replied. "It is kind of a pain in the ass getting the chair in and out of the car." Unclicking her seatbelt, she kissed Brandon on the cheek and got out, pushing the trunk pop button. "I'll be right back."

It actually took twelve minutes to get everything loaded and started, but who was counting? Okay, she was. Driving Brandon's car made her paranoid. It was too flashy, and every time she drove through a shady neighborhood she felt eyes boring into the back of her head. Gangers were known for stealing cars, and a classic like this one would be worth a lot of money on the black market. It was like walking around with a neon sign over the hood saying 'sell me; you'll be set for life.' It didn't help that Brandon was essentially defenseless, and sitting inside it, and...

Stop worrying, Teva told herself as she slid back in the front seat.

Comm shopping went pretty much as expected. Brandon listened intently as the merits of each individual gadget was explained to him, and felt up the sample comms to see if he liked the placement of the features, and Teva played with buttons on a few until she got bored and decided to fog up the display case with her breath whenever the clerk wasn't looking, drawing obscene doodles on the surface that would only appear under the right conditions.

Finally, Brandon picked one, and the clerk smiled cheesily at Teva asking, "And what about you? You know, we are offering a special buy two get the second half off."

Glancing up with her head leaning on her palm, elbow on the glass, posture slumped and clearly bored, Teva drolly responded, "Do I look like I want a new comm?"

"Uh..." The clerk clearly had no idea what to say to that.

"Just ring up the comm, sales monkey, and stop trying for extra commission," she suggested. Grumbling under her breath, Teva added, "Greedy bastard."

Brandon apparently heard her, and snorted as the clerk began to ring up the sale. He handed his credstick as payment, and vanished it promptly as soon as it was dropped back into his palm.

With that out of the way, they spent some time at the laundromat while their clothes dried, Brandon snagging numbers off of Teva's comm and programming his to respond to vocal commands. Teva read, and accepted an invitation to play cards with an old man who'd been playing solitaire as he also waited for his laundry. After Gustavo's clothes were done and he left, Teva returned to Brandon, still playing with his comm quite contentedly, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"So," she said, "We need to talk schedules."

"Okay?" Brandon replied uncertainly.

"You know I go running every morning," Teva stated.

"Mmhm, yes, I'm aware."

"I do a lot more than that," she told him. "Once I figured out approximately how long I was going to be here, I had to find appropriate gyms and teachers to continue my health regimen. Running's not enough to stay in shape for what I do, and if I was going to take a couple months off, then I needed to compensate for that so I didn't lose my edge when I got back in the game."

"Alright," Brandon affirmed slowly, not quite sure where this was heading.

"I usually would do everything before showing up at the clinic, which is why I never mentioned it, but if you're going to have appointments and need rides and stuff, then you have to know what I have to get done in a week so that we can make an_ our schedule_. Get what I'm saying yet?" Teva clarified.

"Oh," Brandon sounded vaguely surprised, like he hadn't quite considered all this yet, "Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, so let's coordinate."

"Mondays through Fridays after my run, I usually come back, eat some breakfast, then go to my daily activity. On Mondays I go to the gymnastics studio. For an hour, I do solo work, then I take a class in aerial gymnastics. After that, I usually shower and change right at the gym, and go straight to the clinic. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I go to an MMA gym. They have open sparring there, and I've managed to find a few decent fighters. On Wednesdays, I do yoga and tai chi in the park. At night I practice freerunning around the neighborhood. People tend to get a little alarmed when they see a girl running on the ledge of a building for some reason," Teva added, making Brandon laugh a little. "On Friday, I take a contemporary dance class, and at night I go swim at a 24 hour fitness gym where I have a membership. Then on Saturdays and Sundays, I take my new stuff that I've decided to focus on. Saturdays I do sword and knife fighting. I know a guy in New Orleans who usually handles that for me. I mean, clearly, I have experience in those areas, but nothing approaching a total knowledge of a particular discipline. He set me up with some people here who know their shit, and on Saturdays I spend two hours alternating individual sessions with them. Right now, I'm taking European fencing, Iaido, and Tantojutsu. Then on Sunday, I take it easy pretty easy. I go to the gym and do some weights, usually at night, and I have one class in the morning. I'm working on getting my last red level belt in hapkido. I also make a point of going to the shooting range once every other week. Doesn't matter when, I'm flexible."

Behind his sunglasses, she had a feeling that Brandon was probably blinking in surprise. "Um...okay, that's kind of more than I was expecting," he said slowly. "So...let's talk times. What are the hours that you have definite appointments, and what can you be more flexible on, like with the shooting range?"

It took awhile, but by the time they were done, they had figured out what items could be done at various times of the day-swimming, the standard gym, the shooting range, the MMA gym, and yoga and tai chi day had a session in the morning and the afternoon-and when Teva's class schedule couldn't permit her to be elsewhere.

"Jesus, what are you doing when I get my treatments?" Brandon wondered aloud.

She shrugged. "Kind of hoping it falls on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday," Teva admitted with a little laugh. "I mean, I don't mind rearranging things. I don't want you to get the impression that I feel.._.inconvenienced_. I don't, and I didn't really want to tell you because I didn't want you to feel bad about it. As an in-patient, there's only so much control you have over when they decide to do your tests and stuff. It's more of an at-their-convenience thing. Outpatient services gives you more leeway to schedule your treatments and stuff when you want them, and you know, if I don't have to skip classes any more, then that would be helpful to me, and considerate of you."

After a brief pause, Teva continued quickly, "Which is not to say that you wouldn't be considerate, I'm sure, but how are you going to know you have to consider if I don't say anything, you know? Oh my god." She put her head in her hands, glancing at her boyfriend warily. "You've got that look on your face like you've just dumped a freezing cold bucket of guilt over your own head. Don't do that, B. Like I said, I didn't tell you for a reason, and I'm telling you now because that reason has changed, so stop feeling bad."

Grimacing, Brandon answered, "I do though, because you've had to rearrange pretty much your entire life just to be here, and... What day is today?"

"Friday," she answered promptly.

"You skipped your dance class?" He sounded so woeful about it that she had to chuckle, patting his hand comfortingly.

"It's not a big deal. We had things we needed to get done today, and I felt like after yesterday's triumph and excitement, and this morning's activities, that I should stay, catch up on some rest, and help you re-acclimate to _life on the outside_," she joked with a wry voice. "I've been dancing for a long time, Brandon. It's just something I enjoy doing, not a necessity."

"But the others?"

"Necessary," she agreed. "I guess most people don't realize it, but just because I'm an adept doesn't mean I don't have to work at being good at what I do. Honestly, I think I work harder than a lot of 'runners do at the physical stuff. It's kind of a weird thing, but I can't just go and tech myself up. I mean, I can; I'm physically able. It's not like my simsense vertigo. It just feels weird to me, even the idea. I can't fathom putting something in my body that doesn't belong there. Cutting off a limb to get a fake one. I can't pack on that extra ten pounds that probably wouldn't do me any harm, or let my muscles weaken, or lose my endurance because that's my job. My only job is to be good at kicking ass. The tech stuff doesn't work for me. That's the life I chose, and it's fucking hard, and I love every second of it, and it_ is_ my life if I fail." Squeezing Brandon's hand, Teva told him, "When I perfect a move, or beat somebody in hand to hand, or make that bullseye, it makes me feel really good. It makes me feel like all of my freakishness is alright. So yes, I push myself to be the best that I can be, because that is when I'm at peace."

Brandon went back to fiddling with his comm for a minute, even though really there wasn't much else he could do on it besides listen to news feeds or music or whatever. He wasn't really sure how to respond to this revelation, the knowledge that Teva had to skip out on some of her preferred outlets and joys to take care of him. It meant he really did have to get himself in gear and learn to do things for himself. That way she wouldn't have to feel concerned about leaving him while she went out to do all her activities.

"Could I," he started a little hesitantly, glancing in her direction, "could I maybe go with you to the pool when you go? I won't get in your way, and I'll stay in the shallow end so you won't have to worry about me, and if we call up the gym ahead of time I can get one of the staff to help me with getting in and out of the locker room."

Her hands slipped into his, curling around his fingers. "I would love it if you went to the pool with me. In fact, you could probably come on Sundays to do weights too, if you'd like."

That brought a smile to his face. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll have to check with Eric to see if he might have any specific do's and don'ts for that though."

"You go see him tomorrow morning, right?"

He nodded, and made certain again that the time didn't interfere with any of her classes. There would only be a couple more weeks of intermittent PT at the clinic anyway, then he was on his own. That would help free up Teva's time quite a bit. Plus, there was always nana and tata. He was sure that they'd be willing to come get him from the clinic and let him hang out at their place for a while until Teva was free to get him. That would be nice actually, considering they lived in his old building that would smell like home, and that had a very convenient elevator.

It could work. It would work, because he'd make sure of it, anything to make things easier on Teva.

"I need to call Switch," he said abruptly, knowing that having some sort of tech to help him get around better would definitely make things easier on her.

"Why don't you wait until we get back home, okay?" She suggested. "Unless you want to have that discussion right here in the laundromat where people can hear everything you're saying."

He shook his head. "Right, no, that's...no. How long do we have?"

Twenty minutes, apparently. Brandon sighed, feeling suddenly fidgety, until he remembered that his tablet was in the car. Tata had said he could link it to his comm which would open up more features. Excited all over again to see what all Deuce could do once wired into the Matrix, he asked Teva to go get it for him, and proceeded to busy himself with that for the remainder of the time they were stuck in the laundromat.

* * *

**TBC…**


	15. Chapter 15

Coming Home

Chapter Fifteen

Fandom: Shadowrun

Pairing: Ghost/Feral

Rating: R

Warnings: schmoop, a little smut, angst, physically disabled person

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen and Alex Kade

* * *

Notes: Last chapter, guys! Don't worry though, you haven't seen the last of these two crazy kids. Alex and I have plenty of other adventures for you to read.

Disclaimer: Shadowrun belongs to Shadowrun peoples. Original characters belong to us.

* * *

Once they got back to the safe house and Brandon made sure his clothes were all put in their proper homes (he may have had to bite his lip a few times to keep from being too OCD about it), he directed his comm to dial up Switch's number, feeling strangely nervous now about talking to his sort-of friend that he barely knew, but was oddly kind of bonded with after the Horizon incident.

"This is Switch," the tech answered in overly polite fashion.

"Hey, man, it's Ghost-"

"Holy fuck! I've tried to call you like a million times! Where was your comm? Where were _you?_ I mean, with Teva obviously, but what were you doing? _Not_ with Teva, I mean. I don't need to know what you were doing with her. That's...private. Anyway, how are you?"

Brandon had the comm on speaker and shot a highly amused look in Teva's general direction who was quietly sitting on the couch next to him. Wanting to avoid the main subject of the call for a few extra minutes-okay, so that translated to stalling-Brandon flipped the question back around. The last time they'd talked, Switch was having a hard time getting a job anywhere because of his condition.

"Uh, better," he answered vaguely. "What about you? Did you figure out how to get off the blacklist?"

Switch jumped into a rambling, excited explanation of how he'd gotten back in the game with Ally's assistance, using terminology that even Brandon had some difficulty following, and he was fairly tech savvy. Poor Teva was probably completely clueless.

Almost at a whisper, Brandon leaned over to talk in her ear. "Are you following this?"

"No," she answered, "but I talked to him about it the other day and he explained it to me in English. I'll translate for you later."

Nodding, Brandon went back to listening in polite fashion until Switch wrapped it up with, "So, yeah, basically that means I'm pretty peachy. What does 'better' mean, anyway? Were you sick?"

And there it was, right back on the table. With nothing else to talk about, Brandon answered with a "sort of," and started to go into his story, leaving out anything that had to do with Lonnie. Not really wanting to lie, but not feeling the need to tell the _whole_ truth, Brandon simply described Gabe and his guys as just a bad crew that he'd gotten tangled up with, and who finally caught up to him for a little vengeance party. The more he described about his time in the clinic and his condition, the quieter and quieter Switch became until by the end of the story Brandon had to check to see if the tech was still on the other line.

"Why didn't...anybody tell me?" Switch asked softly in response. Geezus, the guy sounded like his feelings were actually hurt. Brandon was doing a fantastic job at rolling in the guilt today.

"I'm sorry, Switch, I honestly didn't really think about it for a while, then I knew you had your own problems, and I didn't-"

"Is Teva there?" he interrupted.

"Yeah, right here," she answered. It was the first time she'd spoken up since Brandon had made the call.

"I just talked to you! Why didn't you tell me anything?" Now he sounded a little less hurt and a little more genuinely upset.

Teva responded in a casual manner, taking on a tone that sounded so devil-may-care that it reminded Brandon of Rip for a moment. "It wasn't my story to tell. The important thing is that you're in the loop now, so can you help us or not?"

"Of course I can!" he scoffed. "Ally and I will get you the best stuff out there, then we'll make it better. I can even bring it to you in person if you want."

"No, that's okay, you can just ship it," Brandon assured him. "How much will this cost me?"

"Nothing, I'll do this one on the house."

"Switch." Brandon was _not_ going to take advantage of the guy's overly helpful nature.

The hacker didn't sound at all fazed by Brandon's tone. "Do I have to remind you again that I still owe you for saving my life?"

Brandon rubbed his hands down his face. He _knew_ that was somehow going to come back and bite him in the ass. "You don't owe me anything, Switch. At least let me pay half."

"A third," the tech bargained. "We'll split it between you, me, and Ally. She'll want to help too. Trust me."

Teva spoke up again. "A quarter. I'll throw something in. Four way split."

Brandon didn't know whether to shoot her one of those kill looks or a grateful one, so he settled for just closing his eyes. "I don't get a say in this, do I?"

"Nope," Teva and Switch answered in unison.

"Can you at least tell me what you're getting me?" Brandon asked.

As Switch jumped into a windstorm of different ideas, Brandon couldn't help but get a little excited right along with the hacker. With the possibilities Switch was laying out in front of him, his blindness wouldn't be such a huge issue, after all. He'd actually be able to see again! Sort of. But sort of was better than what he had now, and that was more than good enough for Brandon.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Teva watched a little bit of the trid, then called Madden to check up on him while she was making dinner-soy-meatloaf, and Brandon was damn well going to like it; she was an expert flavorer. They discussed their regular soap operas, and how things were going in New Orleans, then Madden asked the question that she was becoming familiar with: "When will you be home?"

She was making the usual vague answers while dancing around the question when Brandon rolled into the kitchen and asked for her comm.

"Hey, Madden," Brandon greeted the troll, "Been a long time."

He pushed himself back out of the kitchen, talking the whole while about just what was going on saying, "Apparently, Teva decided not to tell anybody what had happened because she wasn't sure how I would feel having my personal business spread around the like that. Yeah, no, I don't mind. It probably explains a lot though, right? ...Yeah, it hasn't exactly been a party for either of us, but I'm getting better slowly."

After her comm was returned to her, Teva discreetly said to Madden, "I think it goes without saying that you can't gossip about this."

"If word got out and he still has enemies..." Madden let the thought trail off.

"Exactly. Discretion is appreciated," she told him.

Later that night, they went to the gym together, and she did laps while Brandon stayed in the shallower end of the pool. He swam or floated leisurely, and sometimes did the exercises that Eric had made him do when they'd gone to the pool before.

When she was done, she swam over, and they played together for awhile, laughing and joking, and sometimes kissing in the mostly empty gym. It felt good, normal. Teva may have accidentally sucked a hickey onto his neck, then apologized frantically as he chased her down to 'punish her' for it.

They were both tired by the time they left the gym, and slept heavily throughout the night.

Saturday brought with it another run in the morning, and as she filled up a travel mug to take with her to her lesson-this week is was Tantojutsu with Master Keniichi-Teva suggested idly, "When you're closer to full speed, you could run with me." She hurriedly shoved half a bagel in her mouth, saying as she chewed fast, "I'll take it easy on you the first few times. I usually do anywhere between four and six miles a day."

"Oh my god," Brandon groaned over his own breakfast, "Angel, I'm struggling with walking around the apartment still."

"I know," Teva replied in her 'duh' voice. "I'm saying when you're walking consistently on your own, and you've built up some endurance again. It'll be good for you. You'll have had your tech for awhile by then, so it's not like you'll be bumping into things."

"Alright, we'll see," he sighed.

She dropped a kiss on his head. "I'll be back in two and a half hours, then I've got to shower, and we'll go see Eric. It will be magical."

"Bye," Brandon turned his head so that he could catch the brush of her lips with his own, then the door shut as she hurriedly took off.

Two and a half hours. All by himself. With really nothing to do. For a moment Brandon thought about doing some exercising like he did the day before, but he couldn't risk expending all his energy before his session with Eric. Instead he did his best to just casually surf the net in audio fashion, which was fine for a little while, but then he wound up getting frustrated when he was having trouble accessing some things without the use of his eyesight. That would take some getting used to, he knew, just another of those challenges that he would get the hang of once he knew exactly where his limits were.

He spent the rest of his time just kind of rolling around the apartment, solidifying exactly where things were in his mind so he wouldn't have to be so cautious about running into stuff. That would still take some practice too, both in the chair and out of it, but a few more times of mental mapping and he might be able to move around a lot more smoothly. Feeling a little too confident a little too soon, he was in the process of trying to go straight from one end of the living room into the hallway at a steady speed when Teva came back in, just in time to see him come up a little too close against the wall, scraping his knuckles on the plaster.

"Shit," he hissed, maneuvering himself so he could get his hand out from between the wheel and the wall. He sucked on his knuckles for a second before Teva came up beside him.

"Let me see," she said, taking his hand before he had a chance to protest. She seemed to inspect it for a minute before placing a kiss on the part that burned the most. "There, that should make it feel better."

"Right, painkiller spit magic," Brandon grinned. Strangely enough, it did already feel better. "I take it I didn't do too much damage?"

"No blood. I think you'll live. What were you doing anyway?"

"Navigating," he answered. "Poorly, apparently."

He found himself being wheeled back out towards the door. "You'll get there, but we can work on that later. Right now we've got to get you to the clinic. My class ran a little over."

"Uh oh. If you made me late, you're going to be in _trouble_." He drew out the last word in sing-songy fashion.

She scrubbed her hand through his hair. "Shut up. You won't be late. It just means I don't get my shower."

They did make it on time for the session, and everyone at the clinic greeted Brandon as if he'd been gone for a year instead of a day and a half. It kind of felt good, having a whole group of people that were genuinely happy to see him, but at the same time it was a little sad knowing he'd finally attained that after all his years living in L.A. only to have to turn around and start all over again in a new city. On the other hand, there was no one in New Orleans who knew his 'bad' side either, so he'd be starting off with a fairly clean slate. He could be whoever he wanted to be and no one would know (aside from Teva) that he wasn't acting as himself. It wasn't like Madden or Red would really know the difference, unless Brandon was really laying it on thick.

Or maybe he'd actually go through his new life _not_ pretending for once. That'd be different, but maybe in a good way. He'd have to see what felt right once he got down there. Sometimes the characters just slipped on so naturally that he almost couldn't help it.

PT was just like it had been any other day. Eric made him to do the bars again all the way to the end, then ran him through some normal exercises. They talked about what would be reasonable on the weights at the gym and when Brandon should progress, as well as more tips for building up strength with the walker. Once they were through, Brandon set the time for Monday's session around Teva's schedule, which the troll had no problems with, and then Teva and Brandon were on their way again.

After a stop home for lunch, and for Teva and Brandon to take a quick shower, they went to visit with the Reyeses a little bit, brightening Brandon's mood tremendously. He was right; being at the old building _was_ insanely comforting. He just wished it was in his own apartment instead of nana and tata's, but that had been rented out to someone new seemingly ages ago. It was okay though; just being with the older couple in their familiar home made _him_ feel at home, and he was almost disappointed when they had to leave. They'd stayed long enough though, and had worked out an acceptable schedule on days where the older couple would be more than willing to come get Brandon after PT, letting him accompany them with whatever they were doing for the day until Teva was available to claim him again. Before they left, Nana remembered that she still had the unopened letters that Teva had mailed to Brandon back when they weren't certain whether he was even still alive, which Teva tucked away for the time being.

Once they got back home, Brandon insisted she read all of them to him, even the ones that she seemed a little reluctant to. She had sounded pretty pissed off in those last couple, but he couldn't blame her for that. That had been a terrible time for her, and a lost time for him, but just the same he wanted to keep them all. He took them from her and located his bag that still contained his journals and both his memory boxes, opened one and lucked into it being the correct box-the one with Nate's ring-and stuck them in with the rest of the letters. Even the ones having been written anger he considered to be 'good' memories, proof that she had cared. Besides, they belonged with the others, not split apart. It would've broken up the story.

Teva and Brandon lounged around for the rest of the night just doing normal things, meaning Brandon was writing or listening along while Teva watched the trid, and both of them worked together to make up a simple dinner. Brandon was, as he had pointed out before, still pretty damn handy with a knife. They _were_ his weapon of choice, after all, right up there beside a good, ol' fashioned, long range rifle (not that he'd be using one of those again anytime soon).

The next day was another easy day, starting with the gym right after Teva's run. There was a minor incident with some asshole who was getting impatient with Brandon's slowness, despite the fact that he was honestly doing his best to let people use the machines before him if they were on a rotation. That particular man had already been on the leg press while Brandon had patiently meandered off to use something else while he waited for his turn. It was when Bran was on his last rep, going slow and easy like Eric had instructed, that a gruff voice had grumbled about "fucking cripples taking up all our gym time, should have their own building to go to."

Brandon had tried to ignore the man, doing his best to just finish his last set without rushing as per Eric's directions, until the guy stepped into his space.

"Hey, other people want to use that, ya know? If you're gonna hog it all to yourself, at least put some actual fucking weight on it so it doesn't look like you're just screwing around. Thing's not a toy."

Looking genuinely apologetic, Brandon promptly removed himself from the machine and may or may not have 'accidentally' stumbled getting off it, latching onto the guy and falling on him rather hard when they hit the ground, his elbow conveniently digging into the man's rib. There might have also been another 'accident' later involving dropping a weight on the man's foot. Possibly there was one more involving Brandon having 'accidentally' backed his chair up rather quickly into the man, knocking him back against one of the other machines. That resulted in Brandon finding himself spun around and a fist latched onto his shirt.

All he did was smile at the man. "You're not really going to hit a blind cripple in front of all these people, are you?"

He didn't have to do anything more as the gym staff were suddenly at his side, escorting the man from the building with strict orders that he'd been warned about his attitude before, and how that was the last straw, and orders never to come back.

Teva nudged Brandon's arm with her elbow. "Smooth, B. Let's _not_ make more enemies, okay?"

It sounded like there may have been a hint of a smile in her tone. Brandon simply grinned in return. Yeah, he could still handle himself against a bully if he needed to...in a very passive aggressive way, but still, mission accomplished.

They may or may not have made a detour to buy another body paint kit on their way home.

* * *

The next few days went by quickly. Teva got to enjoy her regular schedule, and Brandon got used to having huge amounts of free time. He was learning how to entertain himself with his new condition. He couldn't just sit down and watch the trid. Oh, sometimes he sat with Teva while she was watching, and listened to the dialogue, but that was mostly for the company. He'd do other things a lot while they did that, like write on his tablet, and he had made a study of finding out how the tablet could interact with his comm and the matrix, spouting off some jibberish that Teva didn't quite grasp.

They experimented with painting some of the pots he'd made in the pottery workshop, and Brandon announced his intention to sign up for a more regular pottery class now that he was out of the clinic. He searched for everything on his own, and set it up. "You'll have to drive me, at least until I have my tech, but then I can learn how to take the subway so you don't have to-"

"If you say 'inconvenience,' I'm going to kick you," Teva interrupted.

Brandon's teeth clicked as he shut his mouth very fast.

She grinned, and reached out to touch his arm. "You are never an inconvenience," Teva reassured him, "And I don't mind driving you if you'd rather not brave the train."

That was the end of the pottery discussion.

Of course, it was not the end of the paint. They did have another messy night with the body paints, and then Teva grumped that she needed some caloric intake. That all the fake sugar was giving her a stomach ache. "And I think I see love handles," she gasped in mock horror. The day after she ran eight miles instead of six.

Later that night, she surprised Brandon with a very sweet dessert consisting of chocolate sauce, caramel, whipped cream, and cherries on skin. "I tried to find honey, because that's really my preference," Teva commented idly, "But the store only had that fake stuff. I think if I want the real deal, I'll have to hit up the farmer's market."

"Honey and what?" Brandon asked curiously.

She detected a note of plotting in the seemingly idle question, but answered none the less. "There's this company in New Orleans, a local thing called Organic Confections. They make real bakery, and sweets, and such, but they also make specialty products that you can take home with you to do your own baking. My favorites are the vanilla crème sauce and the cinnamon glaze. They're pricey, but so delicious."

Maybe it was kind of weird thought, but she thought the fact that their sex life was so healthy could only mean good things for Brandon. After all, people used a lot of muscles in sex, and it was great cardio. Not to mention the fact that it released happy chemicals and hormones into the blood stream.

Everything was going good between them.

Then it was injection day. They both woke in a somber mood. Teva went through her morning routine rotely, and she noticed that though Brandon did his exercises, he too seemed to be lacking in enthusiasm. He packed a bag of clothes so that he'd have something clean to wear when he left the clinic, but only stuff that would be easy to get into. Sweatpants and a t-shirt seemed to be the order of the day, because he knew he wouldn't be feeling up to putting on a ton of layers or dealing with complicated zippers and buttons after a day of non-stop seizing.

Teva threw some of her own clothes in the bag when Brandon was distracted in the living room, knowing that she was going to end up spending the next two days at the clinic too. Oh, Bran would try to get her to leave, but she would say 'just a few more minutes' and keep saying it until the seizures started, by which point Brandon wouldn't be arguing any more.

She was getting a lot better at dealing with seizure day. She stayed in the room most of the time by then, sequestered in a little corner of the room, out of the way of the staff as they flew in and out. It wasn't that the seizures ceased to move her anymore, but that she was becoming used to the process, and was minimizing her horror the way she would in a battle. Compartmentalization was a good skill to have.

He checked back in to the clinic, and said 'hi' to all his friends on the staff. Unfortunately, since he was only a short-term visitor, he was put in a different ward from the one where he'd spent the past few months. The girl was there, the one he'd tricked so he could make his daring escape. Brandon apologized to her, and she smiled sweetly and graciously accepted. "Just don't cause me any trouble this time, okay? Darlene will also be here later this afternoon and through most of the night. This here is Sam, and he'll be around too, okay?"

The male nurse stepped up, and took Brandon's hand, pumping it up and down twice. "Hey, man, how's it going?"

"Good," Brandon answered. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. Don't worry, I know this is a different ward, but we're good people and we'll take excellent care of you while you're here."

"You probably don't remember," Gina interrupted, "But Sam was on your ward during the last treatment too, so technically you've met before."

"Yeah, of course," Brandon agreed, as the nurse efficiently bustled around the room, putting his things away, and setting the room up a little more efficiently.

They took him down to the treatment room a little while later, and Teva let Brandon squeeze her hands until some of her fingertips turned purplish blue and then white. Then she helped him get into a gown, and get situated in the bed while Sam readied the catheter and the medications that would supposedly help minimize Brandon's symptoms.

It was another harrowing twenty-four hours, and then Brandon's big brown doe eyes blinked open, his gaze confused (and it went without saying by then, unseeing), and he asked for Teva, water, and a cheeseburger in that order.

She laughed, and kissed his head, then offered him the water cup. "We'll run through a drive-thru on the way home, okay?" she told him fondly.

Brandon was a little surprised to find that he wouldn't be having a session with Eric before leaving the clinic, the troll having had the day off for some sort of training seminar. Eric _did_ apparently leave some sort of spirited 'I know you can handle it!' message for Teva with the staff, along with a detailed rundown on what areas she was supposed to remember to work on. She'd done it enough times with the trainer by that point that she probably didn't even really _need_ the directions, but still, it was probably better to use precaution.

On the plus side that meant he could be home while she worked on him, probably on the bed, and she'd probably be a little more intimate about it than usual. Not that it would lead to _other_ things, not when he was so utterly exhausted, but it would probably feel even more amazing than usual. He looked forward to it.

Teva got him his promised cheeseburger on the way home, but despite how hungry he felt, he just sort of picked at it instead of scarfing it down like he imagined he would. He only wound up getting half of it down before passing out with it still in his hand, dropping it down onto his lap as his head drooped over to press against the window. The burger had vanished somewhere before Teva woke him up to inform him they were home, but he didn't question it. She'd obviously taken care of the leftovers and cleaned up whatever mess he might've made on his lap from it.

"Angel?" he questioned worriedly as they got inside the bottom door. "I don't think I can do the stairs."

"I know," she answered him, the sureness in her tone making him feel a little more at ease. "And before you freak out on me, I know you weren't fond of the roller coaster ride either. I figured I can piggy back you up. Is that okay?"

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head against the concern. She knew her body and her limits way better than he did, though he was starting to get a much better idea of what she was capable of. The suggestion wouldn't even have been put on the table if she wasn't certain she could do it.

"Yeah, okay. Just...help me stand up. It'll be easier than you bending down to my level."

She got him to his feet pretty smoothly considering how tired he was, and managed to turn herself around without forcing him to break his grip on her. After that, it was just a matter of her stooping down a little bit to make it easier on him to get up, and then they were on the ascent. She had to bend forward a bit to make sure they didn't tumble backwards, but he found that it was actually far less terrifying than riding up in the chair. He speculated that it was probably due to the fact that he could feel her strong grip on him, utterly determined to keep him from falling while at the same time keeping herself as perfectly balanced as possible, which he could also feel in the subtle shifts in her body.

Bypassing the couch, she brought him straight to the bed and set him down gently, instructing him to stay awake at least long enough for her to go back down and get the chair. He didn't have to stay awake the _whole_ time during the stretch 'n pain relief session, but it tended to go a little smoother if he started off alive enough to tell whoever was working on him if anything was causing him further discomfort.

Teva working on him at home on the bed? It was as he predicted, which was about as far from 'discomfort' as he could imagine. Adding just the tiniest little pecks against his skin when she was finished working on each of the areas that were the sorest, as if adding periods to ends of sentences, it put just a little bit of a sweet, personal touch on the session. The little kisses weren't meant to arouse, just to comfort, and he did wind up dozing off to her careful ministrations.

As per the norm when recovering from Seizure Day, he took it easy the rest of the afternoon and evening, mostly just sleeping between meals. Teva didn't try to make him help with anything or even get up if he didn't want to, and he didn't try to stubbornly push for performing any unnecessary duties just for the sake of being stoic or trying to prove something. Later in the evening he did want to get up enough to meander out to the living room so he could 'watch' soaps with her, but even that ended up with him falling asleep again with his head on her lap. He had no idea how long she let him stay that way until she roused him enough so they could both go to bed, but he was willing to bet it had been a few hours based on the slowness with which she had gotten up. His angel had let herself stiffen up for his sake yet again, but he wouldn't mention it. She hated it when he scolded her for being so nice to him.

Then life carried on as normal as it could beyond that. Over the next week Brandon became fully capable of cruising around the apartment without hardly running into anything (sometimes he'd nick a corner of the furniture or slide up too close to a wall, but his reflexive action to touch and sound via Teva's warnings if she was around became good enough where he could correct himself fast enough to avoid damaging either himself or any inanimate objects). He was able to do more on his own as he got more accustomed to using the walker too, and he did his best to depend more and more on that instead of the chair. The more confident he became with his mobility and utilizing his other senses to determine what was going on around him, the less and less he had to rely on his created character to get through the hard times too. Scott gradually slipped back into the archives of alter-egos, only to come out when absolutely necessary, and Brandon was content with just being himself.

During his light test he actually requested Peters to try something new instead of just the mobility. They already knew he could see movement just fine, and now that it had been a while Brandon could actually see some definite improvement in how he could see the moving form. There was a little more shape to it, just a little, but it was better than just having that feeling that he was just catching shadows out of the corner of his eyes. The new test, however, had very little to do with mobility and more to do with color. Brandon was _sure_ he had seen that bright orange shirt back on that day at The Grove, and he was somewhat certain that the little dots and random flashes of color he'd seen here and there since then were actual objects. Complying with the request, Peters sent Aaron to gather up whatever he could find that was very bright and large enough to play with, then traded off holding things up in the light. After a bit of testing with different scenarios, Brandon found that he could guess the appropriate color about three out of five times if the object was close enough to his face, and typically if it was in motion. Again, he'd only catch it in little flashes, but that was the best confirmation he had gotten so far that his sight was, in fact, improving.

Teva and the Reyeses threw him a party that night at a little place called The Bump. It was mostly a restaurant, but there was a bar and small dance floor in the back of the building that was to be used mostly for special events like wedding parties. The staff turned on the music and let them have the floor, giving Brandon the space to roll around as much as he pleased. The chair having become almost an attachment to his body by that point, he found that he could actually 'dance' fairly well in it, turning himself in little circles and gliding back and forth along with whatever Teva was doing. Sometimes he took the lead and directed her around, and at one point he pulled her down onto his lap so he could turn and twist as fast as he pleased, making her laugh as she held onto him tight.

When they got home, Brandon made sure to pay _extra_ attention to Teva in the bed, hardly letting her return the favor at all. It was a thank you for everything she'd done for him since she'd walked back into his life all those months ago, and for never giving up on him, for pushing him to stay positive, and of course for the dance. Overall, it had been one of the best nights he'd had since he woke up from his coma.

The next morning, completely by himself, he _did_ make her a full breakfast in bed.

Of course, just because he was being all romantic and sweet didn't mean that Teva was any less of bear in the morning. However, after her first cup of coffee and a waffle, she was starting to feel both more awake and magnanimous. Sliding into the chair with Brandon, she decided that the perfect accompaniment to breakfast in bed was morning make-outs.

Parting with heavy breaths, Brandon laughed a little, squeezed his hands around her hips, and said, "So I guess breakfast in bed should be on the docket a little more often?"

"Hm..." she hummed, and rubbed her nose alongside his playfully. "Whatever you want. Doesn't matter to me. Although I do sort of like being treated like a princess. I could get used to that."

He nipped her lip, then sketched out a slight courtly flourish. "As you wish, your highness."

She laughed loudly, tossing her head back, then threw her arms around her boyfriend's shoulders loosely. "I love you," Teva whispered in his ear. Then with an impish grin she added "dork" almost as an afterthought.

Gasping in mock offense, Brandon swatted her on the rear, and she squealed, and scampered off his lap, scooping her running clothes up out of the clean laundry that she'd just kind of piled in her empty suitcase. Really, she was going to have to give Brandon the entire closet in the spare room in her apartment, because he had too many fucking clothes.

They went to the park that day after they'd both done their exercises, and ate a ridiculous amount of cotton candy. They couldn't decide what color they wanted, so they got a bag of each, and swapped back and forth until they were jittery from the sugar high and their lips were sticky and sweet. It made kissing an interesting event.

The day after, they went grocery shopping, and Brandon told her, "I want to try something." He'd been walking a lot more around the apartment with the walker, but this was the first time he had gotten up out of his chair in public. Standing behind the cart, he pushed it slowly up and down the first few aisles while Teva followed him with the chair. It was a good thing they'd managed to hit the store at a relatively slow time of day, because there wasn't much interference. She just had to remember to warn him about displays and distances. He finally sat back down in aisle five, and let Teva take over the cart, though she did maneuver it behind him while he pushed himself along, again for the purpose of giving directions.

Still, the four and a quarter aisles' distance had put a ridiculously happy smile on his face.

Of course, it was time for another treatment. Brandon was checked in again, and then released another two days later. Once more Teva was allowed to take him home, and perform the stretching and pain relieving massage-exercises in their own bed. Brandon seemed to prefer it if the sweet smile he had on his face as he fell asleep was any indication.

The day after, Teva went to the MMA gym. She'd missed her fight on Tuesday, so when she announced that she was leaving, she also decided to stay a little longer than usual. Much to her surprise, Brandon asked if he could come. Aside from the fitness gym where they lifting weights and swam, he hadn't shown much interest in tagging along to her other activities. Teva had chalked it up to not wanting to remind himself of the things he couldn't do right then.

"Yeah, I'm bored," he admitted. "There's nothing really to do around here, and I know I won't be able to watch you spar, but I can cheer you on from the sidelines."

She chuckled. "We won't be keeping score or anything, you know. There's no winner."

"I know," Brandon agreed, "I just want to get out of the house, but if you're uncomfortable with it-"

"No, you can come," Teva interrupted quickly. "I don't have a problem with that. I'll introduce you to the guys and stuff. I just messaged Jean, and he said he's already there. So's Yuan, so he'll be my sparring partner after."

"You fight men?" Brandon asked with raised eyebrows.

"Usually," she admitted. "A lot of girls get pretty intimidated by the environment at the MMA gyms, I think. It's pretty heavy on the machismo and posturing, and the guys tend to give the girls a rough time at first. When I first started going there, I got a lot of 'little lady' comments and blatant sexual stares, but after I put almost everybody down on the mat, they let it go. Now I'm pretty much one of the guys." Stuffing her feet into her shoes, and swinging up her gym bag, Teva continued, "Plus, I hate to sound sexist, but let's be real: most of the people I'm going to run into on a job where I actually have to physically fight them are male. So it's better for me to get into the habit of sparring with men, because it more accurately resembles the real life differences in size and weight that I'm going to encounter. Notice I did not say strength." She ruffled Brandon's hair.

In the car, they continued talking. "I do have one chick I spar with, but she only goes on Tuesdays. Her name is Laurel, and she's...well, she's pretty tough. She actually does a lot of professional and underground fights here. Most of the guys at the gym can't even lay claim to that."

"So tell me about who you'll be fighting today," Brandon requested as the sped off toward the gym.

"Jean is cool," Teva said slowly. "He's a big guy, six foot two, about two hundred pounds. Cracks a lot of jokes. At first he was really nervous about fighting me, 'cause you know, I'm so much smaller and lighter than he is, but I kind of talked him into it. He used to 'run when he was younger, before he started getting more legit jobs, so he understood the argument I made to him. Yuan is much smaller, but he's also a lot faster and is a master in muay thai, which is one of my black belts as well. Let's see...he's like five foot six, which is actually a little shorter than I am, and around one-seventy. Him, I didn't have to work as hard to convince. I asked him, and he shrugged and said 'you act like a man, you get treated like one; get your gloves'."

The sparring went as anticipated. Brandon sat kind of at the edge of the gym, and was introduced to her sparring partners. Jean was charming; Yuan was polite and serious. Jean worked with her first. His style was slower than hers, and so her penchant for fast, hard hits worked well with him. They traded a few tips on keeping defenses tight and recovering quicker. Jean was trained in a lot of ground-fighting techniques, so naturally most of the mock-fights were finished on the floor. The good thing was that her groundwork was improving quickly. Jean wasn't shy about sharing tips for escaping and executing submission holds.

After a twenty minute break where she let herself cool down, and got some water and a snack from the vending machine, and chilled out with Brandon to make sure he was okay. Yuan meandered back over, and they watched another pair of fighters use the ring-it was polite to share-and critiqued their styles. "He's relying too heavily on those kicks," she noted.

"His balance is off," Yuan agreed. "The left leg is not planted. A sweep would bring him down to the ground." A moment later the fighter was on his back, and his opponent had him locked down with a butterfly pin.

Then it was she and Yuan. They limbered up, and strapped on their head gear and pushed their mouth guards into place. A tap of the gloves, and all civility disappeared. Yuan sparred pretty much the same way he fought, which was giving no quarter. His blows came fast, and Teva had to concentrate on her defense, and bide her time until she saw an opening. Like most muay thai fighters, he made frequent use of elbow hits and knee kicks. Her only benefit was that he seemed to recognize that he shouldn't be putting enough force behind them to break bones. Bruise, sure, but no permanent injury.

He dropped his guard for just a second, and she got in an elbow to the head, knocking him out of his pretty and putting him on the defense as she took advantage of his momentary lapse. Unlike Yuan, Teva had the benefit of having studied many types of martial arts, not just MMA or muay thai, and her creativity allowed her to connect moves from different disciplines seamlessly. One minute she was using a muay thai elbow strike, the next a tai chi push kick to force Yuan to stumble back; a few quick steps, and a leap, and she was bringing a hand strike straight at his face. He went down, and she with him, locking him up in a kuzure tate shiho gatame, legs too close to his body to kick her out, arms pinned between them, tied up like a pretzel with her holding him in place.

He called it, and they started over with a new match.

After three, they were both tired, and grinning ruefully. Yuan admitted with a wry grin, "I may have to work on my ground-fighting more."

"Try Judo," she suggested.

When she and Brandon got in the car all he said was, "That was utterly terrifying. I had no idea if you were getting the crap beat out of you, or if you were doing the beating."

"Not coming with again, I take it?" she grinned.

"Probably not," he agreed.

* * *

The following day was Brandon's last scheduled session with Eric. He worked harder than usual for his trainer, wanting to show the troll exactly how far he'd come along thanks to the exceptional care and attention he'd been given. When they were done, Eric still had a list of things that Brandon needed to keep working on at home, and even though they would surely run into each other again when Brandon came back for his treatments, the goodbye was still really hard on Brandon. Not only was he losing regular visits with someone he had come to consider a friend, but it also put an end to his being picked up by the Reyeses after the sessions where Teva wasn't available. Not that he wouldn't see them again, but he wasn't willing to make them come get him from the safe house. The neighborhood wasn't great as it was, but clueing civilians in to a safe house location was never a good idea, especially one that he was aiming to put on the market.

Knowing he was going to see less of his makeshift family in the following weeks, which would inevitably end with having to say a final goodbye when he and Teva left for New Orleans, it was...he hated to use the term 'depressing' because he knew that for himself, in particular, that word held a more serious connotation than it did for the average person. Plus, if he was already starting to get depressed over the concept of just seeing _less_ of the people who had very quickly become so important to him, what was he going to be like when he left for good? It wouldn't be fair to make Teva have to deal with him being like that again, to make her worry.

Still, he couldn't help but fall into a melancholic near-silence as Teva was driving them home.

"Eric did say you could come back for another session or two when you're on your feet more," Teva reminded him, clearly picking up on some of what was bothering him.

"I know," Brandon answered almost perkily with no trace of sadness in his tone, but he kept his face turned towards the window. Right. Like that was fooling anyone. He couldn't _see_ out the damn window.

Teva hesitated for another second before trying again. "You want to swing by your lockbox on the way home?"

"Sure." The little shrug he gave with his answer might as well have been a _whatever._ Christ, he was hardly even _trying_ to pretend to be fine. He needed to get his head back in the game or else she was going to start thinking he didn't want to go back home to New Orleans with her. He did, honestly he did, but it didn't mean he wouldn't miss the city that he'd known all his life, or the people in it that he'd just recently accepted as _real_ friends and family. He was getting stronger and stronger every day now, getting him closer and closer to the time he'd have to leave it all behind. It _was_ depressing.

But as Teva came back from the box to his side of the car, opening the door so she could give him a breathtaking kiss followed by shoving an orange cream pop in his mouth, he couldn't help but smile. And that was _before_ she dropped a box in his lap.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked as he finished his creamsicle, his eyes lighting up as he fingered the tape. He reached down into the sheath he'd started wearing under his pant leg again, drawing out the knife Teva had bought him to replace the one Gabe and his crew had stolen. The box was open in half a second, and his smile got bigger as he dug two plastic cases out of the foam peanuts. One was shaped to hold a pair of glasses; the other was a small, square box that he knew would contain a set of earbuds.

Teva put her hands on his, keeping him from opening his new toys. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He had to think for a second. "Oh yeah." Pulling out his comm, he instructed it to call up Switch, as he promised he would do when the package arrived. There were apparently some things Switch needed to set up through Brandon's comm in order to enable whatever it was that Ally had installed on top of the normal equipment.

"Switch, I got it," Brandon blurted out before the hacker even had a chance to say hello. Teva laughed, rubbed her hand in his hair, and moved back around to the driver's side so she could probably get them home before the new tech experiment got too involved.

Switch and Brandon did all the setup on the way, and he was growing impatiently eager with the need to try it out. He had a feeling Switch was drawing out the process to build suspense, just like in one of those sims the hacker always talked about. The only thing that got turned on while Brandon and Teva were still in the car was the extra cam feed that had been added in.

"Okay, what am I looking at?" Brandon asked.

There was a hesitation on Switch's end, and for a moment Brandon thought the feed wasn't going through. When the hacker finally answered, it was with a mixture of both apprehension, and a tiny bit of pride if Brandon was hearing correctly.

"You're on the street where Madden and I took out those gangers," Switch answered. "I recognize that green door you just passed."

"And from what I heard, you kicked ass," Brandon complimented, then turned to look at Teva. "Angel, wave hello. Switch can see you."

She grinned and waggled her fingers. "Hi, peanut."

"Hey, Feral," Switch responded. "Um, I know you get all sick with Matrix overlay and everything, but we should set your comm to see the video feed too. I mean, it'll probably be more useful if you have it than me."

Teva let out a little groan, but had to agree with him. It didn't make much sense for Brandon to have to call up Switch every time he needed to verify what the glasses wouldn't show him, which he was still dying to try out. But then Teva announced that they were home, and he needed to focus on getting up the stairs. He could do it mostly on his own now, leaning on the handrail more than he did Teva, but it was still a challenge that required his full attention.

Finally, when they got upstairs, Brandon was able to _really_ try his toys. Switch, continuing with his tension-building ploy, made Brandon test out the earbuds first. They had all the bells and whistles added in-audio enhancer, select sound filter, spatial recognizer, and recording capabilities. As Brandon played with them, he then realized exactly why Switch had made him test those first. It wasn't for the sake of trying to have that glory moment; it was so Brandon would learn how to rely on sounds as much as he would the sight. If he had turned the glasses on first, he would've rushed through everything he needed to know about the earbuds, making them fairly irrelevant.

So Brandon learned. Teva helped him test the different features, seeing what his audio range was (both above and below that of normal human capabilities), how well he could block out background noise (everything else virtually disappeared when he was focused on a particular sound), playing a little with the record and playback features plus the trigger monitor alarms, and his ability to pinpoint exactly where a sound was coming from. Realizing how much just the audio enhancements would help him navigate his world without his sight, Brandon actually tinkered with those past the time when Switch was ready for him to move on, turning the tables a little bit on the hacker. It was for Brandon's own good though. He needed to be able to use one or the other individually, because he figured there may come a time where he wouldn't always have the option to use both.

When it came time to finally turn on the ultrasound feature on the glasses, Brandon actually found himself to be a little nervous. For a moment he was worried that it wouldn't work, that whatever portion of his brain had been damaged might also prevent him from being able to 'see' the image that the ultrasonic pulses formed. He could hear just fine though, so in theory that was the part of his brain that would be controlling what he perceived visually.

_Redirecting the images,_ he thought, just like Peters had said he could possibly do one day on his own if he kept working at it.

"You ready?" Switch prompted.

"Yeah, just tell me when," Brandon answered, and closed his eyes. When Switch gave him the go ahead, he flipped on the pulses via his comm, and slowly opened his eyes to a whole new world.

"Oh my god," he breathed out, an emotional smile slowly growing on his face. He scanned his gaze around the room until his new vision landed on Teva. He froze, glad that the special glasses were built from the same model of his regular sunglasses. The lenses on them were more than dark enough to hide the sudden moisture that sprang up in his eyes.

He could see her. For the first time since watching her walk through the doors at the airport, going home to continue her life without him while he finished ridding his own of his demons, he could see her. He had cried then as he'd driven away, and he was trying awfully hard not to do it again, not right in front of her.

But she was _right there_. Her entire body was in a sort of brick red, just like everything else he was seeing, the detail of individual locks of hair, the outlines of her pupils and irises, the perfect imperfections on her skin, and the designs on her clothing all still invisible to him, but he could _see her._ Letting out a little laugh, he used the arm of the couch to push himself to his feet, then reached for his walker. He knew exactly how far away from him it was, and didn't falter in the slightest as he grabbed onto it. He also knew exactly how far away from him she was standing, and brought the back of his hand up so his fingers could brush across her cheek.

"Hi," he said simply, nearly choking on the simple greeting.

"Hi," she practically whispered back, seemingly as caught up in the moment as he was.

Switch babbled out some excuse about having to go, instructing Brandon to call him later so they could go over more instructions or something. Brandon wasn't really listening anymore by that point. He could see his angel, _finally_, and even without the details she was just as beautiful as he remembered.

The air was laden with an overwhelming amount of feelings. Teva was so happy for him that it was hard for her to speak, and in a way she was also happy for herself, her state of being having come to be so irrevocably tied with his. It was almost too much, watching that smile appear on his face, wide and bright, and just genuinely happy. She realized she hadn't seen its like in all the time she'd been here. Not since before her initial leaving of Los Angeles had Brandon smiled at her like that. It only served to highlight just how much he really had been struggling to keep it together without his sight.

Brandon moved his walker to the side, and threw his arms around her. She caught him up with her arms tight around his waist, compensating with her strength when his legs grew a little wobbly. He was still a little like a newborn colt in spring, all spindly limbs and not quite sure about this gravity thing, and he had to concentrate to stay up for any length of time without some assistance.

She didn't mind though.

His fingers ran through the back of her hair, which had grown longer in the past months.

Brandon lowered his face to the curve of her neck, and placed his lips over the tendon that joined her shoulder to it. He breathed out, "You're so pretty. I could look at you forever."

Her natural instinct was to scoff or somehow deflect that compliment away from herself. Pretty? 'Pretty' was for little girls and women who cared about how they looked, not for warriors. But then he was being so sweet and sincere, and this moment, this infinite hug, was so good and perfect that she didn't want to spoil it with cynicism.

Instead she clutched him a little harder, and said in that same quiet, choked up voice as before, "Thanks." Her lips found the skin just underneath his earlobe, and then his cheek.

He raised his head up so they could share a proper kiss, then broke it laughing as his legs grew tired and too wobbly to stay up anymore, even with her assistance. "Sorry," Brandon said.

She shushed him, and helped him get back to the couch, setting him down on the cushions gently. "No apologies," Teva told him.

"It's kind of a compliment, when you think about it," Brandon joked, pulling her down with her hands in his until she was next to him. "Me getting all weak in the knees for you." Teva rolled her eyes, making Brandon laugh harder. "Oh shit, I missed that sardonic expression." He tugged her close and kissed her again. "We're going to be just fine," he breathed assuredly between one lip lock and the next.

Teva grinned against his mouth, because for the first time he sounded like he really believed it. Maneuvering slowly, they got him stretched out on the cushions, Teva straddling his waist, but before things could get too interesting, he caught her wrists, busy hands trying to push up his shirt.

She tilted her head questioningly.

Brandon smiled. "I just want to look at you," he said.

He wanted to see her, to let his eyes trace over every familiar curve of her body. Not in a rush of sexual need or passion, he very slowly began to do to her what she had been about to do to him. Layer by layer her clothes came off until Brandon was taking in the sight of her full, natural beauty. He couldn't see the scars but everything else about her perfect body was on display for him like a work of art.

Teva shifted a little, smiling at him but with an expression that looked a little self-conscious. He laughed at that too, because it was so good to be able to sort of gauge what she was feeling without her having to say anything.

"Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, amused.

"No. Yes." She shook her head. "A little, but in a sort of flattering way."

"Well, get used to being flattered then," he said as he pulled her down for another kiss. "I don't plan on taking my eyes off you any time soon."

As they kissed, Brandon reveled in the joy and freedom he felt. He could leave his gray world for a red one, one that wasn't by any means perfect, but it was one that he could see and interact with. The box he had existed in for months was gone, and with it all his fears and anxieties and anger and depression seemed to just disappear.

Could he have lived on without any sight and still have been happy? Yes. Eventually. But knowing he wouldn't have to go through that dark struggle made all the difference in the world.

He'd have to remember to tell Switch to wipe the slate clean. Brandon had saved the hacker's life, and Switch had returned the favor by giving life back to Brandon.

He was ready now. With Teva by his side he was ready for whatever this new life threw at him next.

* * *

**Fin.**


End file.
